Alphabet Soup
by TunelessLyric
Summary: 26 letters, 26 characters, 3 worlds. Read if you want a new experience. Should get interesting. Rating changed for chapter 15 language and material in chapter 17.
1. All Told

_So, this is our first trip down the rabbit hole. Don't know where this is all going, I'm just hoping it all turns out. _

_Alistair and Anders sit down in Vigil's Keep during some down-time after Awakening. I can't say for sure if this is AU or cannon. Mostly because I don't know yet..._

_As always, BioWare designed, built and sold the pond. I am only a fish living in said pond. Breaking the rules._

_Share and enjoy and review! _

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><p><strong>All Told<strong>

"Did you guys…?"

"we are friends, nothing more."

Alistair relaxed.

"Wait a moment, did you?" Anders was suddenly serious.

Alistair tensed again. He turned a deep scarlet. "I - no - I don't have to answer you!"

Anders threw his head back and laughed deeply. After an awkward minute, he leveled his gaze at the other Warden. He drew his hand though his blond hair, collecting loose strands and fixing his messy ponytail.

"I don't know why that's so funny," Alistair said pointedly.

"Well, _Chantryboy_…" Anders trailed off.

"This isn't really about that is it?" demanded Alistair.

"Funnily enough, no," replied Anders. "I just wanted to let you know a few things. First, Aira might as well be my sister, if you treat her any worse than lovingly, it'll be me you answer to. Next, I'm a mage, but I'm also a Warden, no templar crap on me and I won't roast you. Finally, don't mess with my cat."

Alistair spluttered. "What's all this got to do with _anything_? I'm a Warden too. Actually I never became a templar. I was recruited before I took my vows. And I'll have you know, cats love me."

Anders squinted at the other man disbelievingly.

"Aira trusts me, you should too… Brother." Alistair watched the mage carefully.

"What did you just call -?"

Alistair tugged off a glove and showed Anders his hand. The mage Warden's eyes widened when he saw a scar that matched his own.

"You – what happened when…?" This time it was Anders who spluttered.

"Nothing more than my usual punishment. Certainly less than you got."

Anders nodded, at a loss for words. "Amell was good when I got back. I told her what I wanted to and she left it at that. The others always pushed for more, but I couldn't give it to them."

"She was the same with me," agreed Alistair. "She said her bit and then I did. Then she waited until I was ready to add. Never begging or even asking for more than I wanted to say."

"I remember when I first met her after she came to the Tower. I didn't want someone getting in the way of my escaping. She never asked for me to stay or to put either of us in any danger. I wonder what was going through her head when she recruited me." Anders looked like he was lost in that moment.

The two men sat in silence for a while.

"What did she say when Jowan appeared in Redcliffe?" asked the mage.

The templar's eyes unfocused. "She was angry at first, then let him out of his cell -" Anders flinched "- even though I didn't trust him."

"Because he was a mage."

"Because he was locked up. Arl Eamon doesn't throw innocents into the dungeons," Alistair corrected, voice hard. "Aira was quick to give him a free rein. Provided he didn't use blood magic. Then Isolde…"

Anders put a hand on the other Warden's shoulder awkwardly.

"Then Aira and I blamed each other. That was a terrible argument."

"But you obviously forgave one another."

"We did. I was stupid to even yell at her. You see, a few days before that we were in Lothering and I had my back laid open. I thought I was dead for sure, but then Aira did this magic and healed me."

"Wynne and I taught her that," said Anders.

"Well then, I guess you saved me that day too. Thank you," Alistair said sincerely.

"I was in solitary for a year then," answered Anders. "Oh, and – er – you might be on a wall back at the Tower. In my cell."

The templar threw the mage a quizzical look.

"I painted a bit that year," Anders admitted.

"All told," sighed Alistair, "I'm glad I know you, Anders."

"I'm glad I know you too."

~ Alistair and Anders


	2. Brother Mine

_Second chapter. I'd like to thank everyone that has reviewed so far. Everyone. Even if it was hard to hear. I meant it, thank you._

_It should be pretty clear who this is and what's going on. Share and enjoy. Drop my a review if you have time._

**Brother Mine**

_By the way, what made you think you'd have it your way - By The Way ~ Hinder_

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><p>The door closes with a reverberating <em>boom<em> of finality.

"Goodbye, Brother, " I say. I look down at the idol in my hands. It has an oblong shape, like a bar of enchanted lyrium. It has a dark, glittering quality and is a deep cherry red. I think about how it reformed in my fingers after Varric tossed it to me. "You're a beauty," I tell it.

"Bartrand, the door closed!" Varric's voice drifts through the thick stone.

"Always were the smart one," I yell back.

"What's going on?" I hear Hawke ask.

"This idol will fetch some nice coin. I don't want to split it three ways." Why am I even bothering?

Soon I am walking alone in the Depths. Just the idol and I. Every time I close my eyes, Varric's stupid look floats before me.

Brother, if you hadn't invited that Fereldan you could be next to us. The idol and I, that is. You also could have been nicer to me. A lot nicer. And maybe less embarrassing. Also, that crossbow, Branka or whatever, seemed more important to you than me.

Is that what this is about? Revenge? For all the little things my brother ever did to me?

Suddenly I'm running back to the chamber the idol came from. I want to open the door and see the surprised looks on Varric's, Hawke's and those other idiots' faces. I want to laugh at their stupid gawping when I come back. I want Varric to laugh too, to tell me I'm forgiven for my stunt.

What does happen is different. I pound on the door. Scream myself hoarse, but no one answers. I try to twist a part of the door. Push it, pull it and kick it. Now my foot is sore, hands are red and I'm out of breath. I slam against the sodding stone. I slide to the floor of the tunnel. I realize that I'm crying.

_Why?_ whispers a soft voice in my head. _A moment ago you were happy without Varric. They're not coming back. We don't need them though._

I slowly stand. I want to go back to camp. The Deep Roads have gone eerily silent. Stories of lone dwarves picked off by deepstalkers lurk just beyond my present thoughts.

I wonder why everything seems shiny. I left Varric in the Deep Roads. The idol tells me he'll be fine. That Varric will be at out camp when I get there.

But when I get there and see he isn't, I'm not worried. And I'm not because the idol tells me not to be.

I wake up later and Varric still isn't beside me. Beside me happens to be walking through the Roads. On our route back to the surface. How did I get here without knowing? Where in the name of the Ancestors is my brother?

_He is going to meet you topside._ It's the voice from the idol.

I relax. Until we reach the surface. Varric isn't there. But the idol reminds me we're supposed to meet at the Merchant's Guild meeting next week. When next week rolls around, the meeting passes Varric doesn't show. The idol says Varric no longer cares about his brother. He's moved on to bigger and better things.

I hate him. I never want to see him again. I go home and go to bed.

As I lie awake, I think about Varric and I. We had a good run. This will be the last time I think about you. Hope you enjoy your life, Brother mine.

~ Bartrand


	3. Care to Explain?

_Carver. Carver, Carver, Carver. This ended up with a happy ending, so I celebrated. I can write happy endings. So there. Hahaha, I knew I could! Also, thanks to my wonderful fans. All two of you. I appreciate your dedication more than I can say. Double update, that's how much I appreciate you guys. _

_BioWare designed, built and sold the pond, I am olny a fish wishing half the characters were real._

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><p><strong>Care to Explain?<strong>

**Carver**

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><p>"Marian!" Carver pushed his way through the crowded ship to his sister. "We need to talk."<p>

She turned to face him. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. Blood still clung to her hair and light armour. "What is it?" she asked flatly.

"Care to explain?" Carver demanded. He glared at her, annoyance flickering underneath his grief. "How could you let that ogre kill Beth?"

Marian reeled back as though Carver had backhanded her. "That was my fault? Sorry, I thought I was supposed to have her killed," she fell back on sarcasm, not knowing what to say.

"Fu-nee," Carver spat. "Why couldn't you have done something?"

"Like what? Couldn't _you_ have done something? Why does this have to be of _my _doing?" Marian's voice rose in anger.

Carver shifted nervously, he could see other passengers looking over at them. That woman from Lothering, Aveline, was watching very closely. He knew he couldn't back done while that large an audience was looking on.

"Because she was looking out for you and Mother when it took her," Carver said. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

"And if I threw myself into her, knocked her out of the way? What then? I'd be dead instead. Would you be having this conversation with Beth?" Marian shouted, her blue eyes like chips of ice.

Carver snorted. He turned and began walking away. He didn't want his older sister to see his tears.

"Don't go away angry, just go away!" Marian yelled cuttingly.

Carver spun around, wanting to say something to shut her up, to hurt her. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to make a sound but only sobs came out.

Marian's face softened immediately. "Oh, Carver." She pulled him into her arms like she used to when he woke her in the middle of the night after a this time, she had to stretch to stroke his head. "I am so sorry, brother," she whispered. "I wish Beth was with us. I wish I did something to save her."

He mumbled something back.

Marian noticed hot tears running down her face. "I really am sorry."

"I miss her," wailed Carver.

"I do too, brother. I do, too," sniffed Marian. "But you know what? We still have each other, Mother and we're going home."

"No we aren't sister," Carver said stubbornly, "Lothering is gone now."

"Kirkwall is our home now. Know why?"

He shook his head.

"It's our home because that's where Mother and I will be for you." Marian stepped back to gaze fiercely at her younger sibling. "Beth is at home too. At the Maker's side."

Carver smiled weakly. "Thank you Mare. Thank you for getting us out of Lothering. And thanks for talking sense into me."

Marian laughed. "I don't think sense is my strong suit. We'll get through this, I know we will."

"I'm with you sister," Carver said.

~ Carver Hawke


	4. Decoy

_I love Duncan. He always interested me. Especially after reading the Calling. Oh, by the way, this contains spoilers for the Calling, read at your own risk. Second chapter of my double dose today. I hope you enjoy it. you all._

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><p><strong>Decoy<strong>

**Duncan**

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><p>9:19 Dragon<p>

Fiona,

It really has been too long. I trust you are well, as I am.

Maric gave your son to Arl Eamon of Redcliffe. Eamon is the late Queen Rowan's brother. I will check in from time to time, do not worry. They plan to give him to the Chantry to become a templar.

I can't imagine where you may be right now, only that it is no longer Weisshaupt. We both knew what was happening when we were called back. Now I am permanently stationed in Ferelden, the land of my home. You, I have no doubt, returned to Orlais. I know the first sentence in this paragraph is contradictory now, I meant that I wonder where in Orlais you are.

Under my command is Riordan from Jader. You remember him right? The one who all but begged to accompany us after Bregan to protect you. He still has a scar from you fireball. I remember him as the whiny one from my Joining.

Sincerely,

Duncan

9:23 Dragon

Dear Fiona,

I dreamt of the Deep Roads last night. About all the death. So you often think about all of us from that trip? Genevieve, Bregan, Kell and Hafter, Nicolas and Julien, even Maric are all gone now. Only you and I remain. The thought still brings tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat. As for Utha, no one ever saw her again. I think she is at the Architect's side yet.

Your son has grown much in the last while. He is learning his fighting quickly. I think now of the irony, that you, a powerful mage, have a son who will become a templar.

In response to your question, no, I do not want Alistair to become a Warden. He doesn't need a part in this life of blood and night whispers.

Missing you every day,

Duncan

9:28 Dragon

My dear Fiona,

I haven't seen you in some fourteen years. You would hardly recognize me now, I think. I am not the young man of twenty-one I was then. At thirty-five, I am beginning to show my many battles. Why, I am even missing a chunk out of my nose.

It is apparent that King Maric the Savior is not going to return. With each year that passes, young King Cailan and Loghain's daughter, Queen Anora become more comfortable on Ferelden's throne. Our old friend won't be returning to us, painful as it is to say.

At seventeen, Alistair turns heads. I pity the young mages who have to see him every day and the female templars he'll have to work with. His brown eyes hold a kindness the Chantry will never beat out of him, try as they might. He likes to keep his sandy brown hair short. Worst of all is his goofy grin. How like you he acts. He'll break some poor girl's heart one day.

Wishing you were here to see him,

Duncan

9:30 Dragon

Dearest Fiona,

I long to see you. Every passing day, I wonder what it is that keeps you busy. My time is taken up overseeing the training of Ferelden's Wardens. It keeps me very busy.

Alistair is nearly ready to become a full templar. I feel bad for him, he has made it abundantly clear this isn't the life he wants. He runs away once a week and hasn't made any friends among his peers. U worry about him.

Congratulations on your new position.

Wishing you all the best,

Duncan

9:31 Dragon

Fiona,

Alistair joined the Grey Wardens. I couldn't bear the thought of his life being wasted in a chantry of the Circle tower. He belongs outside, in the sunlight. As do you. Alistair will be a better Warden than templar, I'm sure of it. It is nearly time for my Calling. The dreams have returned, my skin has begun to decay. First, I must find more recruits, though. That means travelling. I doubt I'll have time to write again.

That being said, it is time to tell you something I should have told you face to face may long years ago.

Fiona, I love you. Thank you for going after me when Julien died in the Deep Roads. Thank you for asking me to keep an eye on Alistair, I am glad to have had the chance to watch him become the wonderful man he is. I love you.

I think you knew a long time ago, but waited for me to say it. Maybe, once long ago, you loved me too, but that was before Maric and your son and everything else. I am sorry I never spoke up. I am sorry I will never see you again. Maybe Alistair was a decoy to remain close to you. I love him, too.

All the love I ever felt for you, farewell my Fiona,

~ Duncan


	5. Evens and Odds

_I hate Eamon. I do, he's a selfish idiot. I read some stories about Alistair's childhood and thought, what about Eamon's side? There's a bit of Isolde yelling at Eamon in here because I just wanted someone to annoy him. I also had fun writing this, almost as much than the W story, Mave._

_Anyways, thanks for the continued support throught this venture so far. Are we having fun yet?_

_BioWare designed, built and sold the pond, I only drank the water. After filtering, of course._

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><p><strong>Evens and Odds<strong>

**Eamon**

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><p><em>Arl Eamon of Redcliffe,<em>

_I am very thankful you agreed to take Alistair. This is what his mother wants for the lad. Do right by him._

_His Majesty, King Maric the Savior_

Eamon folded the paper again; it was already heavily creased and the Arl could have sung its contents, he had studied it so closely. People asked questions when he returned from Denerim with the boy.

He sighed and glanced over at the small child. Isolde had scowled after reading the letter. She had broken things when Eamon said he was leaving for the palace in the capital. When she saw Alistair, her face hardened, but her eyes softened. A sign Eamon did not miss.

"Alistair!" Eamon called.

The boy hurried to see what his foster father wanted. "Yes, Arl Eamon?" he squeaked. At six, Alistair was still at the stage of being cute enough to get away with much.

"Alistair, there's something I need to say." And Eamon explained about templars. About leaving the village, away from the Arling to the Chantry to learn.

Alistair's brown eyes clouded. "You… don't want me here anymore?"

"No, that's not it," Eamon answered quickly. _It's Isolde who no longer wants you here._ "You see, everyone must have some instruction sometime. You'll be better looked after at the abbey."

Isolde had screamed and shouted until Eamon agreed. Alistair couldn't linger in the stable anymore. It wasn't proper. Eamon understood what she meant. Teagan disagreed with them both, but it wasn't reall up to him, was it?

"Alistair?" The ten year old didn't look up from his boots. "Alistair, are you enjoying it here?"

The boy gave a noncommittal grunt and shrug.

"What's wrong?"

"Should I tell you in Arcanum?"

Eamon sighed. He might as well have stayed home. Maker knew Isolde would have a fit when he got home and had nothing to say about the visit. Check that, Isolde was going to have a fit when he got home. Period.

"I'll come back tomorrow," Eamon promised lamely.

"Connor?" Eamon suggested.

"Connor," Isolde repeated, testing the feel on her tongue. "Connor."

"You like it?"

"I do."

Eamon grinned at his wife. In the back of his mind was Alistair, ignoring his foster parent studiously. He had gotten painfully sarcastic in is teenage years.

At least the lad could swing a sword and serve his country. And speak a language dead in Ferelden except for mages and templars, he reminded himself wryly.

"Right of Conscription?" Eamon spluttered.

"For the Grey Wardens, yes," Ferelden's Commander of the Grey – Duncan – explained.

"Will I see him again?"

"Of course you may. He became a Grey Warden, not contracted the Plague," Duncan answered dryly.

Eamon sighed. "I appreciate your telling me, but I would rather you have let me know _before_ it happened."

One less headache at least. Connor was a handful. Eamon remembered Alistair at that age, trying to figure out who had the worse temper.

Duncan bowed.

Eamon groaned. He cracked and eye open. Bright light shone directly above. Isolde and Connor stood at his bedside. Teagan, Alistair and a mage were behind his family.

"What happened?" he mumbled.

"Alistair, your throne?" Eamon couldn't believe he was being offended like this.

"_I don't want it_!" Alistair said again.

"Drop it Eamon," Isolde put in.

"Think about the rest of us, maybe," the mage, another Warden, suggested scathingly.

Eamon bristled. "Why are you all against this?"

"What do the Landsmeet think?" Eamon called, not looking away from Alistair and Anora.

"We agree, Anora as queen," came the reply.

Eamon sighed and conceded.

He sat with Isolde in his estate in Denerim. "I thought you didn't like Alistair."

"And I thought you did," she fired back.

Eamon threw her a questioning look.

"Why do you fight so hard for something he doesn't want?"

"To make everyone happy? Do you have any idea how hard it has been keeping both of you happy? It's been like trying to say even and odd numbers backwards from different numbers at the same time. You've always been completely different and wanted completely different things," Eamon complained.

"Well, now we don't. Go talk to him," Isolde urged.

"The Grey Warden who kills the Archdemon… dies?" Eamon heard Alistair ask, the words coming out in a gasp. Eamon and Morrigan lingered outside the Orlesian Warden's room.

"Do you have a plan?" Eamon asked the scary witch.

She nodded, a hard light in her eyes.

"Do what you must to protect them. Please," he begged. Then he slowly walked down the stairs. As he went, he pulled the tattered old letter from his pocket. _Do right by him._ For once, he could do what Alistair and Isolde wanted at the same time. Keep the Wardens safe.

It seemed Isolde and Alistair were no longer evens and odds, but a pattern that when added together formed a pretty picture.

_~ Eamon_


	6. Fish Out of Water

_Oh, boy, it's been a while. Here we go, with F this time. I'd like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read, review, etc. I love you guys. Thanks for the responses to my PMs from your reviews, they spawned a few interesting convos from the last chapter. Anyway..._

_BioWare built, designed and sold the pond, I am only playing with the algea in said pond._

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><p><strong>Fish out of Water<strong>

**Finn**

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><p>He puffed out a deep breath. Ahead, two armoured women and a dog were waiting for him. All around was open. Wind pulled at his hair, sleeves and the hem of his robe. He broke into a quick jog to catch up.<p>

"Seriously Finn, I don't remember you being this _slow_!" Amell said in exasperation once he pulled up next to them.

"I don't remember you being in such a rush _all the time_," Finn countered.

"That tends to happen when the darkspawn always get somewhere before you."

The dog barked, causing Finn to start. The other woman laughed. "I knew I'd like you, Clueless."

"Arianne, if you encourage him, I'll be very angry. He's bad enough as it is," warned Amell. "I have Alistair to thank for that."

Finn heard a strong fondness in her teasing. He felt a jolt of something in his chest. "Task at hand?" he asked when he'd caught his breath.

"Brecillian?" Amell asked the Dalish hunter.

"It's farther away."

"The Veil will be weaker though."

"Did you actually want my opinion when you asked?" Arianne huffed.

"Of course, I'm only thinking out loud," Amell replied calmly.

"If we went to get the shard of eluvian first, we'd have to retrace our steps farther," Finn interjected into the gentle bickering.

"As you wish," Amell conceded. Finn was surprised. Anders always said he had awful ideas.

F

On the road Amell had numerous stories to tell. Then, when Finn's head was spinning from all the names and places, she and Arianne began to sing elvish songs.

Finn was content to listen for a long time.

"Been keeping busy?" Amell asked after a long, slow song.

"Busy enough," he answered.

"Lessons going well?"

"I'll have you know –" Finn broke off when he saw the teasing glint in her eyes. "The Harrowing was scary."

"Yeah, I believe that one," she answered.

"So, what have you been up, to apart from ending the Blight?"

"Killing advanced, talking darkspawn. Recruiting old friends."

Finn and Arianne exchanged a quizzical look.

"Anders joined the Wardens in amaranthine where the Arling nearly burnt to the ground in an attack from a broodmother. She's dead now, as is the emissary that… _freed_ her from the Old God's Call," Amell explained.

"Maybe I should – Aarrgh!"

Arianne almost fell over, she was laughing so hard. Finn gingerly lifted his foot from the mud puddle. He stepped slowly onto it, not liking the squishing of his sopping sock. "My boot! Look at it, it's filthy!"

Arianne laughed even harder.

"I don't find it funny," he complained.

"You don't get a say," Arianne gasped.

"Here." Amell dried his foot with a small spell.

"This is all so strange," Finn admitted. "I never thought I'd get out of the Tower before. I feel like a fish out of water."

"It gets easier, Finn, it really does." Amell said gently.

F

And get better it did. That night, Amell lit a fire and they pitched tents under the sky. Their meal was cooked over the flame and watches were set. Finn was relieved to get first watch with Amell.

The stars were amazing. The cloudless night, coupled with the full moon was a sight to behold.

"Do you miss us?" Finn asked.

"I miss all of us being together," she replied. "With Jowan dead, Anders and I with the Wardens and being busy in Amaranthine…"

"We loved you," he blurted.

"I know. I feel horrible knowing what happened to Jowan and the thought of you stuck in the Tower while Anders and I have free run of Thedas. It just hardly seems fair."

"You can keep your mud puddles and mosquitoes and poison ivy," Finn joked, scratching his shins from his run-in with the plants in question.

"Stop, you'll make your rash worse if you keep at it," she warned.

"I think I'm allergic to outside."

"It'll get better. You'll get used to it, at least."

"I hope so. For somewhere so beautiful, it sure is scary."

"And you haven't run into a bear or wolf yet," Amell mused.

"I want to see it all. I want to get used to it," Finn said excitedly.

_~ Finn_


	7. Grossly Underestimated

_So, here we are at G already. I can't wait for you guys to read the future ones. Thanks for everyone who has read and reviewd. And thank yous go out to those of you I don't have reviews from, it means so much that you have all stuck with this venture so far!_

_You know the drill. I own everything that BioWare doesn't. Which, coincendently, isn't much._

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><p><strong>Grossly Underestimated<strong>

**Gamlen**

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><p>I walked into the estate quietly. I knew I'd been gone far longer than I had said I would be. I slunk up the stairs and into the bedroom I'd had since I was a little boy. The bed was neatly made. A fire was slowly dying in the grate. I crossed to the nightstand on my side of the four poster bed, drawn by an ivory-white envelope addressed to me. It was propped against the tallow candle.<p>

_I'm sorry that you'll return to find me gone, love. But frankly, I don't know who you are anymore. You disappear for hours with no explanation. I know I should be telling you this in person, but I can't bear to spend another haunted moment in this manor house. In fact, I'm leaving Kirkwall altogether._

_You won't me again, darling. But it really is better this way. I hope that gem is worth it. _

_I am truly sorry,_

_Mara_

The letter slipped from my hand and fluttered to the floor. I sat heavily on the bed and put my head in my hands.

G

_Daddy,_

_Mama misses you. She tries not to. Tries not to ask after you every time we see someone new, but she does. She knows you're living in Lowtown now. She feels bad because she knows why._

_I'm almost a year old now. My name is Charade._

_Love, _

_Your daughter_

The letter made its way to my new home the day after it is dated, so I know Mara is keeping an ear out for me yet. _A daughter_. The thought just keeps rolling over in my mind. Mara left a year and a half ago… yes, the time span makes sense. I can't believe she never mentioned it.

I blinked hard several times to keep the tears back. I missed her so much.

G

Leandra and two of her children arrived in Kirkwall from Ferelden. Malcolm, her husband, died years ago. The mage that drew her across the sea, gone. And Bethany, her younger daughter died fleeing Lothering and the Blight. The poor girl. Carver, Bethany's twin brother, is having a very hard time. After the fiasco at Ostagar, the lad hasn't stopped until now. And Marian… she's the reason the three of them are even here. She most definitely is the daughter of Malcolm. With that black hair and crystal blur eyes, it's unmistakable. And the way the air parts and moves with her, it's obvious she hasn't escaped the Amell and Hawke magic.

Just like Bethany.

Under a smuggler, Marian and Carver will work off their debt. All I can do is keep Marian from Meredith and Orsino.

I only wish Mara and our daughter could welcome the Hawkes home to Leandra's old house. But that was never going to happen.

G

Carver has become a Grey Warden. He went away with them three years ago after contracting the taint in the Deep Roads. Even after leaving the Blight behind in Ferelden.

Marian is the Champion of Kirkwall after vanquishing the qunari. She has moved back to the Amell estate, thought it now carries the name _Hawke_. She has many friends that would gladly walk through the Fade for her. Even a special man in that Grey Warden mage from Ferelden. The apostate healer in Darktown.

I am alone again in my small slum house. Every now and then thought, the elvish mage – Merrill – stops by. I bring her back to the Alienage as she is always hopelessly lost.

I haven't heard from Mara and Charade in twenty-one years. Each day means I am that much farther away from every seeing them.

G

Mara is dead. My daughter told me so. I have Marian to thank for even having met my wonderful girl. I grossly underestimated my niece when she walked into Kirkwall seven years back. I miss my sister dearly though.

Having Charade makes me proud. She is a truly lovely young woman. With all of the templar-mage fighting, Charade and I are leaving Kirkwall for a while. Get in some traveling and father-daughter bonding.

I hope Marian and her friends sort the trouble out. I'm sure they'll be fine.

~ Gamlen


	8. Hawke Sisters

_Here's a new chapter, meant to be a continuation of _Care to Explain? _What happened after that is as follows. Hope you like it, I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out. From now on, I'll be doing double-updates as often as possible._

_BioWare built, designed and sold the pond. I am only a fish living in said pond. PS, female Hawke._

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><p>Hawke Sisters<p>

Hawke

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><p>Even after our long day, after trying to get accustomed to the way the ship heaved under my feet, after having a week – my thoughts were still firmly on Bethany. I tried to think about other things, but the screaming match with Carver was still painfully fresh in my mind.<p>

I closed my eyes and tried hard to sleep, but I kept myself wide awake with sudden flashes of the ogre reaching for my sister. Eventually I made my way up to the deck. I looked out at the Shining Sea. The waves were peaceful, lapping ever farther away, and I was soothed by the sight. I glanced up and saw the sky thick with stars. My breath caught in my throat at the vista. Far away from the ship I could see the night sky reflected in the sea.

I stood there until I felt my eyelids drooping closed. Then I went back to Mother and Carver. I curled up under the thin blanket and fell soundly asleep.

I opened my eyes to the familiar sight of Lothering village. It was the day the strangers came, a week or so after Carver retuned from Ostagar. I was staring at the strange group Beth, Carver and I had seen. The man with light brown hair, almost asleep and face twisted with pain, was slumped against the wall separating the village from the fields around the windmill. The giant qunari was being released from his cage. The mabari bounced around Leliana, the chantry Sister. The witch with eerie yellow eyes glared around in disdain. And the mage, a Circle one, she couldn't have been much older than Beth and Carve. One young to be a Grey Warden, according to my brother. He'd seen the mage and man at Ostagar.

"You can't help them sister," said a familiar voice behind me.

I whipped around. "Beth? Is that really you, or a…" I couldn't bring myself to say it. _Demon_.

"I know I died. I think it's me," she answered slowly.

"I'm so sorry Beth," I cried as I flung my arms around her. She staggered back a step as I practically jumped on her. The she returned the squeeze.

"I'm sorry too," she replied, "sorry I left you guys to carry on like that." She looked at her feet.

"The Hawke sister back together again," laughed another voice I knew well.

"Carver!" Bethany squealed. She jumped into his arms.

"Are you alright sister?" he asked. "At peace, I mean? I know spirits don't stay in the Fade unless…" Carver trailed off.

Unless they couldn't find their way through to the Maker.

"Yes, I know I'm here, but I had to stay," Bethany explained. "I had to talk to you. Make you two understand what happened to me was in _no way_ your fault. Okay? I saved Mother from the ogre, it _wasn't your fault_," she said fiercely.

I felt my eyes filling with tears and say Carver wiping his away impatiently.

"Don't cry, please," Beth begged quietly. "There's something too important coming, you have to be strong. It isn't like I'm leaving, you just won't be able to see me. I'll still be with you," she added.

"But you're my little sister," I sobbed. "I should have been there."

"You were, Mare. Believe me, you two always were." Beth looked over her shoulder. "Listen, I have to go now. I love you Carver." She kissed him on the cheek. "And you Marian." She did the same to me. "Follow your hearts always. That's where I'll be."

"Love you Bethany," Carver said despondently. I echoed him quietly.

Our sister turned and slowly walked away. After a handful of steps she became fainter and fainter until Bethany faded away entirely.

_The Hawke sisters_, her voice whispered in my ear. I smiled. "Goodbye Bethany, my sister."

~ Hawke


	9. Into the Night

_So, just a little bit of explaining before you take off with Iz. This isn't what really happens, as Mave kindly pointed out. But I like my version better. _

_Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed (especially Mave and MiiYu, I love you guys!) this story. Almost halfway through!_

_BioWare and all that. You know how it goes better than I do._

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><p>Into the Night<p>

Isabela

* * *

><p>What could you have done? You were given a ship and crew. A way out of Ferelden. Not that the nation is awful, you just aren't that excited about the cold or hounds, despite the very friendly locals. You'll be paid well to bring the ship to its destination with its cargo safely. Of course you take the job.<p>

When you get to the docks, a man meets you. He introduces himself as your first mate. He has a course plotted and the ship is ready to leave. The tide is coming. So you walk the gangway.

What you see is a massive shock. Slaves. That is your cargo. You took a contract with a slaver.

A memory flashes in your mind. You're quite young. A slave in the street with infected lashes from an old whip. He told you a story about not obeying a small command, about his release from service. The next day you found him dead.

You decide to set sail. A short time later, you are sailing in open sea. You breathe in the salty scent that calls you to your true home, feel the spray from the waves on your skin.

You check your course. You're set to make landfall somewhere on the Wounded Coast in the Free Marches. You've heard it's warm there.

As time – weeks – passes, you feel more and more uncertain. You know this is wrong. You've been paid upfront a large portion of the total pay. Not a bad sum, if you are perfectly honest. A lot.

Slavers. Slaves. Ship. Sea. These short thoughts chase each other around and around in your mind. They keep you awake at night with their haunting meanings. Ever since acquiring the ship in Denerim, which was tricky, you have felt something was… off. Moving about the vessel with all of these elves who stare at you with large, overbright eyes is awkward.

As the Marches draw close, you have a solution. You have the money necessary to find another ship. And time. You tell the elves to ready themselves.

That night lightning crackles in the sky. The waves are the highest they've been all through the crossing. Rain sheets down and barely runs over the sides of the deck. It flows through the railing as fast as it hisses from the sky. You knew this storm would break on cue.

You are called to navigate. As you stand at the large hardwood wheel, you hesitate. If this mad plan works, lives will be lost. Not all will make it. And those who do will be hunted. In the time spent on the sea, you know a beauty of a ship when you see one. This is one such vessel. A shame to lose a piece of wood so fine like this. But it probably doesn't have many more storms in it. So your spin the rudder into the reef.

The ship protests loudly to this punishment as the hill scrapes through the rock. Suddenly the deck is full of elves all sprinting in different directions.

You run a hand lovingly over the wheel. You whisper a quiet thanks and apology to it. The you collect your belongings and make your way into the complete havoc on the main deck.

You jump into the sea on the deep side of the broken body of the _Wayward Farer_. As you swim to shore, you spare a glance at the old tub. It's broken ribs and spine stab into the sky and you are momentarily blinded by salt water. You don't know if it is from the briny waves that slap against your face or if it is something else entirely. You blink the wet away and turn back to the shore.

Kirkwall is a long journey after the long swim through the storm-tossed waves. Eventually, though, you stumble into the city. Your memories for the Marcher town are fuzzy, but you manage to drag yourself into the Hanged Man. You rent a room.

As you warm yourself with a mug and the heat of the fire, a man tells you a story about a relic that was stolen from the qunari. The Orlesians are practically begging for another scavenger to swoop in. The man tells you to speak to a Castillon about it.

Another patron knows a man trying to get out of the shipping business. He has a ship to sell.

As you go to your room that night, you know you are safe and sound. Tomorrow, everything will be better. A ship, coin and a mark. Today isn't half bad. The thought of the slaves escaping into the night makes you grin. Oh yes, tomorrow will be fine indeed.

~ Isabela


	10. Journey's End

_So, as you may know, I hate Jory. I figured there had to be a fairly big issue in his past. This is it. I doubt Jory had a brother in real DA, but that's the best part of fan fiction, right?_

_BioWare and all that. It owns all._

* * *

><p><strong>Journey's End<strong>

**Jory**

* * *

><p>I pulled my two-handed sword from its scabbard between my shoulder blades. Its familiar weight was a comfort. My mouth kept moving but my mind went dead. I could only remember.<p>

Looking into the mage girl's eyes, I moved purely on instinct. I was drowning in the depths of her eyes. Remembering.

_You will die on a day of great bloodshed. It will be in the autumn, after the leaves about you become red with the death to come. _The old words echoed in my mind. I tore my gaze from the Amell girl to the trees all around us – the recruits and the two Wardens. The leaves were he colour of blood. My eyes danced around the small space we were gathered in. Daveth was cooling fast, face-down and his body was.

For a wild moment my mind cleared, as if the cobwebs were swept away. I hoped Amell made it. Shame really, for such a young girl to die.

Maela. I hoped she and our child would be fine.

Duncan's swipes blocked my wild flailing effortlessly. Then he stabbed. I didn't even register pain as I prayed to the Maker for a swift end.

J

"Jory, you're going to be late!"

I straightened in front of the mirror. A shaggy, brown-haired youth gawked back at me.

I darted to the voice of my mother.

"Come along now," tutted the sharp-faced blonde woman.

I followed her into the square. From our place among the crowd, I could see easily. I could see Jack beaming, ready to burst with pride as he was knighted.

"Rise Ser Jonathan and do the Maker's bidding," said the old chantry mother in her reedy voice.

My brother stood and bowed to the woman. Then he rushed to Mother as the crowd dispersed.

"Hey little brother! Mother!" Jack – Ser Jonathan, I reminded myself – hugged our mother and ruffled my hair.

"Hey," I whined, ducking away from the offending hand.

The two of the started talking animatedly. I quickly grew bored of them and wandered a short way away. I hoped Jack hadn't forgotten the sparring session he promised we'd have later.

"Come here, child." An elderly woman was beckoning me. Her weathered face was framed by stringy grey hair. Her high-quality shawls hung off her bony frame, giving her the appearance of a shade of the dead.

"I'm not a child, I'm nearly sixteen," I announce, but moved closer.

"I have something to tell you," she went on, a strange light in her eyes. "Will you listen?"

I nodded mutely.

"Your brother, he will go away soon? He will not return."

Jack was going to be in command of a contingent of soldiers stationed in Highever. Not return? Why not? Would he leave us and decide he hated Redcliffe? Would he d- no. He wasn't going to… that.

"And you, dear boy, you have a difficult future… Most difficult." The woman's face creased in concentration. Future? Was she some kind of apostate witch? I took a step back. "You will die on a day of great bloodshed. It will be in the autumn, after the leaves about you become red with the death to come."

I suddenly realized I didn't know this woman. I had never seen her before. I spun and ran home, her words echoing hauntingly in my ears.

J

The missive came a year after Jack left. A letter from his superiors. He was dead. Died in the line of duty.

Mother cried for days. She looked at me and tried to form the loving gaze she turned on my brother effortlessly but ended up with the pained expression I always received.

I kept up on my sword work. I wanted to fill the space, the ache in my heart, with something Jack would approve of.

I practiced every day. Sometimes in freezing rain and knee-deep mud.

I joined the town watch a year later. Mother didn't say a word. She never did. She looked down on me in disdain. I thought about her late at night, but pushed the glares out of my mind otherwise. So what if nothing I did could make her love me? I could still make a good life for myself.

When I was knighted four years and many injuries later, she didn't even show up. I was long beyond caring. Beyond being hurt by her.

I never saw her. I had my own house. I was seeing a beautiful woman who had come to Redcliffe with her merchant father. Maela, with hair like silken gold and eyes of clear green.

Still, the words of the old woman rang in my ears when I was alone. I would panic at the end of summer straight through to the first snows of every year, convinced every day was my last.

J

I took a commission in Highever when Maela and her father returned. Arl Eamon gave me leave.

That spring, we built a wonderful house.

Still the prophecy plagued me. At the end of that summer, I entered a tournament. When I won the grand melee, I was approached by a Rivaini man with a large beard.

Duncan, for that was his name, told me he represented Ferelden's Grey Wardens. He offered a spot with them, specifically for me.

Despite her being pregnant, Maela urged me to go.

Duncan brought me to Ostagar. There I met Alistair, already a full Warden, and Daveth who was a recruit like me. A month or so later, Duncan arrived again with the final recruit, a mage from Kinloch Hold named Amell.

I woke that day and noticed the leaves had changed colour. Autumn, it seemed, had snuck up on me this year. No matter, I was still alive. The woman was wrong. Only scaring me for a laugh.

The day wore on. In the Korcari Wilds we encountered darkspawn. They crumbled at our feet.

Moving towards Ostagar in the wake of an apostate named Morrigan, I was taken by surprise yet again. The leaves were a brilliant scarlet in the Wilds.

The recruits, Alistair and Duncan met after our adventure. Daveth drank the darkspawn blood. And died.

I knew then, everything in my life had led to this. That I should die so the mage could live. She had a great destiny. Greater than Mother's or Jack's. Or even mine, Ser Jory.

I accepted that. I hoped she could be better than me.

I knew she would. I knew my journey had ended.

~ Jory


	11. Killing Darkspawn

_Be warned: this is sad. It is dark. It is pretty heavy, not a fun read. Also , those of you who have read the Calling will get a lot more out of this piece._

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><p><strong>Killing Darkspawn<strong>

**Kell**

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><p>Hafter bounded at my side, clearly having forgiven me for trying to send him away. Behind us the sounds of Fiona, Duncan and Maric had already faded. Ahead, the darkspawn were forming a swarm.<p>

"Ready for this, boy?" I asked the hound.

We turned a corner in the tunnels and met the group. Hafter leaped onto the first one as I drew my bow. I fired the arrow into a monster. I didn't even check to see if it connected. I backpedalled until I felt the rocky wall against my back.

Already I had a new arrow nocked. "After me," I shouted, unsure if I was calling to Hafter or challenging the darkspawn. My hound's head swiveled and we locked eyes.

I spun away and raced to a fork in the Depths we passed.

Shuffling feet of the darkspawn followed quickly. Their humming matched the Call pounding in my ears.

Hafter reached me again. I spared a quick look at him. Black ichor and blood streamed through his thick coat. One ear was shredded and a patch of pelt was missing from his haunch. But his eyes gleamed in the low light from the fighting.

The darkspawn were beginning to lose us. Though every fiber of my being screamed to hide now, I yelled. The sound bounced back loudly in the cramped space. I allowed my boots to slap the tunnel floor and Hafter let out a bark.

Another group of monsters was just up ahead. They sound soon be upon us.

Not long after I sensed them, we barreled into their midst. I reached for a new arrow, but my hand closed on empty air. My quiver was finally empty. I drew my flail instead, tossing my now useless bow aside. I swung in wide passes at the creatures.

Time passed. Sweat ran down my face. My arm was burning and I was covered in stabs and slices when too many darkspawn rushed at me. Hafter was injured badly. He was slowing rapidly and reduced to cowering at my feet and snapping at darkspawn that came too close.

"Sorry… boy," I ground out harshly. He whined in response.

An ogre joined the throng. I felt my arms fall limp at my sides, flail barely clutched between numb fingers. Suddenly my vision was only a flash of deep grey-brown. Hafter had launched himself in from of me. I heard a crunch as my loyal hound crumpled.

"Hafter!" I screamed. I glanced down at his motionless body and willed him to rise. To shake his head and throw himself back into the fray.

A darkspawn shuffled forward. My arm whipped around and the flail slammed into its ugly face. I redoubled my efforts against the endless tide of hurlocks and genlocks. I was thankful the ogre was having a hard time wading through the throng to me.

The adrenaline slowed and my breath dragged painfully, as though my lungs were filled with broken glass. Arrows pinged off the stone behind me, each one closer than the last. I moved sluggishly. Spasms made my legs tremble and shake. Ache crept from my chest out, filling my limbs like rock.

An arrow pierced my armour at the shoulder. That was it. My flail slipped through my fingers, leaving slivers embedded in the tender skin like a burning trail. I dropped to my knees, every breath suddenly filling my left side with fire. I reached for Hafter.

"Thank you boy. I'll be along soon." The words fell from my mouth is harsh gasps. "This was how we were meant to die. Killing darkspawn. But you always knew that." Tears, hot and wet, trickled down my face. They mingled with the grime.

The ogre, having finally made its way to the crevice I crouched in, brought its fists down around us and a wave of black crashed over me. It was over.

~ Kell


	12. Little Hell

_Okay, so I had a little fun with this one. Not really. It's rather dark and gloomy. Ah well. Enjoy as best you can!_

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><p><strong>Little Hell<strong>

**Leandra**

_What if I can't be all that you need me to be?/We've got a good thing going/We have some promises to keep… Please believe me dear, I am more than penitent – Little Hell ~ City and Colour_

* * *

><p>We arrived in Kirkwall a week ago today. One less than we should have numbered. Bethany, my poor daughter, you should not have died in Lothering. My girl, we should never have had to leave you and your father in Ferelden. I am sorry my dears.<p>

Gamlen sold our Hightown estate the Amell manor house I grew up in. Now we have to live in the slums of Lowtown with him. I know how he gambles, he racks up unpayable debts then loses everything. Like the estate. I know he spends his evenings at the Blooming Rose in the Red Lantern district.

He thinks I don't know he's brought Carver with him. Carver is only eighteen, he is so much aged for one barely a man, though. After Bethany's death I… he's been amazing. He does what Marian and I ask. Where has my headstrong young warrior gone?

Marian and Carver have to work off our entrance fee. With smugglers. I feel as though I've asked her to grow up too fast for a young woman. She is barely twenty, yet has to provide for her remaining family. I feel like I owe her for everything she's been through and had to do lately.

The girl we took with us, Aveline, has joined the city guard. She, too, lost someone to the Blight. Her husband, Ser Wesley contracted the taint in Lothering. Aveline and Marian have remained in touch. I am happy she has friends.

Carver is clearly unhappy with aiding Athenril, the smuggler who has employed him and his sister. He'd rather be on the right side of the law, but no one will take a Fereldan boy. He asked to join the guard with Aveline, but was rejected. They wouldn't take more than one refugee. I hope he fares better the next place he asks.

Marian and Carver haven't argued much since our arrival. Despite having no house of our own, becoming Kirkwallers and Bethany's death, they remain very close.

Even though their Uncle Gamlen has been quite hard on them and they have so much to come to terms with, my two remaining children are being very good to one another. I do hope Carver gets his chance to shine, he feels like he is living in Marian's shadow.

I hope we may one day move out of the Lowtown slums and into a proper house. I feel as though this is all somehow my fault. If I hadn't gone to Ferelden with my dear Malcolm, maybe Marian, Carver and Bethany would have grown up in my childhood home. They would have respectable places in society. I don't know, maybe Malcolm and I wouldn't have ended up together if we had stayed here.

I feel like I've broken too many promises to my children. I feel as though I haven't been all they have needed me to be. I'd give up anything for the life Marian and Carver deserve. But they must instead live this little hell.

~ Leandra


	13. Mistaken

_Timeline: after the archdemon is killed. Alistair did not become king. The rest is here. I'm pretty happy with how this turned out. Next one will be happier, I promise you all._

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><p><strong>Mistaken<strong>

**Morrigan**

* * *

><p>She crouches in the dim corridor having done what she spent a year waiting for. Her cat's tail flicks side to side in the dark crevice she has crawled into. She narrows her yellow eyes to prevent any recognition from those parading by.<p>

The Chantry joke, Leliana stands with the Wardens, their dog, the elf assassin, qunari, bad tempered golem, old mage and disgusting dwarf. The bard-turned-Sister wrings her hands.

The woman-cat pricks her ears to listen in to the conversation taking place before her.

"… believe Morrigan's gone!" Leliana was saying.

The old mage nods sadly. "She was such a smart young woman."

"My dear Wynne, I think you overestimate Morrigan. She wasn't very kind," the assassin answers nastily.

"Zev, just because you annoyed her, doesn't mean she acted like that to the rest of us," the female Warden puts in heatedly.

Zevran shrugs as if to say _but it doesn't matter now, what are you going to do?_

"Did she way where she was going?" Leliana asks quietly.

Leav it up to her to make this difficult, sniffs the cat. She catches a swift gaze exchanged by the Grey Wardens.

"No," Alistair answers too quickly. The silence that follows is broken when the dwarf belches loudly.

"That was revolting, Oghren!" admonishes Wynne immediately after.

"Is it not happy the moody swamp witch is gone? It should move on," the golem proclaimes incredulously.

"Kadan, I agree with Shale," the qunari admits apologetically.

"I understand Sten." The female Warden dips her head.

The dog sniffs carefully while the group continues to gently bicker. It wanders close to her place of concealment.

"Leave me alone, you mangy beast," she hisses, baring her fangs.

He leaps back and trots back to his master. She feels bad she scared him so.

"What was that all about, boy?" asks the dog's master.

The mabari whines faintly then lies down at the Wardens' feet.

Leliana sighs despondently. Wynne smiles wanly at the bard and the Warden touches their arms gently. Then she strokes the ears of her dog. Alistair collects the other Warden in his arms and breathes into her hair for a moment.

Morrigan shrinks deeper into the shadows, knowing full well this is of her own doing. But it had to happen. She thought she would only hurt herself and the Warden. Never did she imagine others would miss her. Morrigan had been mistaken.

She waits until the room fills with nervous chatter again before slinking on down the long hallway. When she reaches the window, she pulls herself up on the sill. Morrigan glances over her tabby shoulder and picks up the sounds of celebration down a few floors. She flicks an ear in farewell, even though those she is saying goodbye to cannot see her, before Changing quickly into a raven. Then she spreads her night-black wings and louches herself out the window.

She flies easily above the castle. This kind of mistake is painful.

Morrigan shakes her head and soars off into the next land.

~ Morrigan


	14. Niceties

_Sorry about the updating lapse. Been a bit busy. Here we go, already three-quarters finished. I know, I know, you're saying, "But Tuneless, we're only on 14 of 26. That's only half. Trust me, with writing them out first, which I only just finished, we are three-quarters done. Try and wrap your head around that concept. I'm even a bit confused._

_Anyways... Thanks for the reviews, you keep me going when it's like writing through cement._

_BioWare sold, designed and built the pond. I am only an elephant living in said pond._

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><p><strong>Niceties<strong>

**Nathaniel**

* * *

><p>"It's the Howe pariah."<p>

I heard the whispers. But the way the Wardens fell into position around me, blocking the icy, hard stares, felt caring.

We shuffled through the courtyard I know so well toward the Keep. A very undignified way to enter one's childhood home after so long. The other Grey Wardens – the blond mage and heavily-plated dwarf were dismissed. They scattered across the hall.

Seneschal Varel and Guard Captain Garavel stood in deep conversation at the far side of the grand room. The Warden Commander popped up in front of me. She was slim, blue-eyed and brown-haired.

"Nathaniel Howe, right?" she asked.

"At your service," I acknowledged sourly.

"Good to see we'll be getting along," she replied smoothly. "Especially while you'll be under my command."

I was shocked.

"You see, Nathaniel, you killed four Wardens breaking into the Keep. Counting Oghren and Anders, there are only four Wardens left in Ferelden," the Commander said, gesturing to the dwarf and mage respectively. "So, as you might imagine, our numbers need bolstering. As I said in the dungeon, I don't want to kill you, but there's a chance the Joining ritual might."

I nodded, wondering if she spoke like this every time she opened her mouth: stiff and long-winded.

N

"Nice kill, Nathaniel!" the Commander called, leaning against her staff.

I felt a grin spread across my face. "I'm sure 'Nate' will be less arduous."

She laughed. I was struck by how comfortable she looked, Hero of Ferelden and Commander of Ferelden's Wardens and standing in a field of darkspawn corpses, wearing drakeskin armour, next to Anders - a childhood friend.

Oghren belched loudly, jolting me back to the part about the corpse-ridden field of darkspawn."Hey, Howe, look!" yelled the dwarf. He made a lewd gesture.

"Oghren!" barked the Commander. "I don't remember you being this bad, honestly."

That's right, on top of it all, Oghren the drunk dwarf was in Denerim with the Hero when she killed the archdemon. I'm the odd man out. Even if the others don't act that way.

N

"Nate, check this out!" I turned to see the Commander jogging easily toward me, despite the heat, weight of her gear and pack. She pulled up next to me. A bow was held in her hands that looked startlingly familiar. "Here," she gave it to me, "recognize this?"

I did instantly. My grandfather's bow. I told her about it and thanked her for bringing it to me.

N

In the Deep Roads, slogging through water hip deep was when the Commander told us about what happened in Denerim. There was a lot of of gory detail and she choked about half of it through clenched teeth. My thoughts wandered all through it. From imagining the fighting to wondering if I'd ever stop smelling like a Childer grub.

N

"Nate, I really like you, but I'm truly sorry. I can't." _No, of course not. You probably have a hundred men chasing after you,_ I think.

She must have read my expression because she added, "I'm not just saying that to make you feel like this. I don't want to hurt you later. I want to continue being a good friend of yours though."

I can hear the unspoken part hanging like mist between us. _Not after Alistair. Not after how he treated_ me.

"Thank you for being honest," I said, words strangled.

N

We – Andres, Oghren, Velanna, Sigrun, Justice and I – stood next to Seneschal Varel and various others. Darkspawn were marching on Amaranthine as we spoke. The Commander was leading a group to the city to protect it.

"Anders, Sigrun and Justice: you're with me," she called.

The three she named snapped straight. The rest drooped visibly, me included. As I watched Anders take his usual spot at her side, I couldn't help but envy the idiot. Or Sigrun, taking my place.

"Oghren," the Commander went on, "I want you in charge, you know what to do."

For once, the dwarf didn't answer with a large burp. Instead, he nodded gravely.

"Velanna, do your thing. There are plenty of darkspawn for everyone." The elf grinned and bowed to our leader.

"Nate, keep the Vigil standing," she smiled, knowing I didn't need to be told twice.

"I will," I answered her. "Be careful."

All four of them nodded to my surprise.

The Commander moved forward, embracing Oghren, then Velanna. She reached me. I pulled her close, squeezing her as I wanted to from the moment I met her.

"Leave a light on for us, Nate. We will come back," she breathed into my ear.

"Don't let the city burn. Don't worry about the Keep; she'll still stand when you get back," I replied. "Maker watch over you." I breathed in deeply, holding her scent of leather and wildflowers in my chest as she and her entourage exited the Keep.

N

A week of bloodshed later, she returned. We exchanged our news. She told me the Mother, Architect and their followers were dead. Amaranthine City still stood.

I reported Velanna's disappearance after the fighting. I told her about battling night and day for three days. I added Oghren's and my last charge the fourth and final day."So that's it Commander. Work begins tomorrow," I finished stiffly.

"Oh, spare the niceties, Nate," she laughed.

I only had a moment to be confused before I felt her lips on mine.

~Nathaniel


	15. Open A New Cask

_Ha, I can write two happy stories in a row! Evidence is below. I am a little proud of myself about that... So, anyways *ahem* I really like how these two turned out. This one particularly. It just seems quite... I don't know how to explain this one. Just read it, okay? Don't forget to leave me a review, I can't help you if I don't know what you think! This character likes to swear, you have been warned._

_Insert disclaimer here._

_Hahaha, okay, fine. BioWare owns whatever I don't. For example: names, places, plotline of the story. I own none of those._

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><p><strong>Open a New Cask<strong>

**Oghren**

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><p>He sees his audience. Strange pile of Surfacers. A dog, old mage, young elf and… his tired mind buzzes as he scrambles for the name… qunari.<p>

Cloudheads. Great, maybe they'll get the deshirs to pay attention. Maybe they'll get permission for an expedition.

He barely notices his dismissal. He storms off back to the Commons. As he descends the Stairs, he wonders what the strange group needs. He has heard whispers – well, okay, more like shouts – one of them, the elf, is a Grey Warden here to gain the King's aid against the Blight. Well whooped-sodding-doo. The King is dead, assembly's in deadlock and the Legion is probably enjoying the down-time. That thought makes his mouth quirk up under his beard. Imagine, the Legion of the Dead, sitting on their fat, dead asses and drinking! Ancestors, what a sight that would be.

As he staggers past the Proving Grounds Bridge, he ignores the cold stares. He inwardly cringes when he reaches for his axe hilt and remembers it's long gone. Force of nug-humping habit purely. Old habits and all that.

His metal-booted feet find their own way into Tapsters. Nobody skips a beat when he walks in any more. A mug is already being poured. He pushes his way into his corner, wrapped up in self-pity. He drops coins on the table – something he'll never run short on since he's the only one around to squander Branka's fortune now. He pulls of his gauntlets and presses his palms against the cool tankard.

He hasn't been there for long when the group of Cloudheads walk in. Music grinds to a halt as everyone twists to gape at the Surfacers. He snorts and goes back to enjoying his drink. What a bunch of easy to entertain deepstalker-lickers.

A throat is cleared across the table."You're Oghren, right?" the elf asks, voice high with curiosity.

He nods, way beyond caring. "You're the Warden, right?"

The elf smiles. "Name's Karryn Tabris. Come here often?" he adds after a short, awkward pause.

Oghren snorts in reply. "Look like it?"

"I'm going to ignore that," Karryn says smoothly. "Why do you need to get into the Deep Roads?"

"It's been two sodding years since Branka took her house into the Deep Roads. No one's gone to find them yet. I got to give it a shot," Oghren answers, words barely slurring.

Karryn chews that over for a moment. "Branka – she's a Paragon, right? What for?"

"Invented a smokeless fuel for the smithing fires. Went from Smith caste to Paragon and started her own house. Brought her whole family up to her house," Oghren tells the whole story in a series of grunts. "The Lord Shaper could tell you all this," he adds pointedly.

"Why do you want to find her so badly?" the elf presses.

"She's my wife," he replies heavily. "Now sod off duster, or pull up a stool. I don't care."

Oghren takes a massive swig of ale. "Barkeep, open a new cask, will ya? This one's done!"

He stays there all day. News comes in every hour. Karryn wins the proving for Bhelen. Karryn tears apart the carta and kills Jarvia. Karryn is being sent into the Roads to find Branka because Bhelen needs a Paragon's support to take his throne.

Oghren processes only "Branka," "Deep Roads" and "search." He's out of the tavern before his mug stops spinning on the table.

He practically runs to the Roads entrance. Sure enough, Karryn and company are there. He is showing the guard team the deshirs' permission letter.

"Hey, here!" Oghren yells.

The elf spins around. "Oghren?"

"Bring me with ya!" Really? Begging? He has as much authority as those assembly thunder-humpers.

Ignoring the glares of the surrounding dwarves, Karryn agrees to bring Oghren. As the qunari heads back to the rooms the Warden has rented in the Commons, Oghren is equipped with a finely crafted dwarven axe. Just like his from before. It feels good when his fingers tighten around the handle. The weight is perfect in his grasp.

As the group heads into the darkspawn-infested Deeps, Karryn and Oghren exchange manic grins.


	16. Pray For the Children

_Whew! 25 reviews, who'd'a thunk it? Not me, that's for certain. Thanks to all my fans. We're on the home stretch now guys! Here's P._

_BioWare designed, built and sold the pond._

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><p><strong>Pray For the Children<strong>

**Petra**

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><p>"I think it's time these wards came down," Wynne said to the Warden. Petra scrambled for the name, Amell, that was it.<p>

"Wynne, you can't leave us," Petra protested. Not after the battle in the Fade. Petra knew her mentor had died, even if it was only for a sliver of a moment. Wynne was old and still weak from joining to the spirit. Petra shuddered as she remembered the demon tearing its poisonous claws from the senior Enchanter. That was when the spirit possessed the old mage and filled the woman with the strength to end the battle. Petra had lost consciousness then; her final thought filled with Wynne jackknifing up, eyes glowing blue, to face the demon that had killed her an instant ago and almost did the same to her apprentice.

"If she doesn't, we'll die," Amell said gently. She glanced at the young apprentices gathered behind Petra, still frightened by the fight with the rage demon.

Wynne nodded. "We should go now."

Amell dragged a dusty blond elf away from their meeting of the minds, Petra took the opportunity to look over Wynne's new companions. The witch narrowed her golden-yellow eyes threateningly in response to the red-headed mage's scrutiny. She stood taller and lifted her chin arrogantly, shaking her black hair. From the man came waves of nervous energy. As Petra stretched her mana toward him it was slammed back by a thick wall. She tensed. A templar? With Amell? Strange times sure made for strange allies. As she continued to stare, he turned and smiled. The Chantry trained this one wrong, but who was Petra to complain?

Amell returned without the elf. She threw a meaningful glance at Wynne.

"Don't leave us here alone, please. I don't know what to do," Petra pleaded one last time.

"You'll do fine, dear. As you've always done," Wynne answered softly. "I will return." She closed her eyes and the room filled with the scent of long-forgotten lavender and earth as Wynne summoned her mana to remove the wards.

The templar made no move to restrain her or even cut off her magic as soon as she was done.

As the strange group passed into the main hall, Wynne tossed a parting look over her shoulder. Petra replaced the wards then. "Children," she called, summoning them back. The young mages collected around her quietly. The elf sank down on the opposite wall without a word.

"Where's Amell taking Enchanter Wynne?" a small girl asked.

"She's going to help Amell fix the Tower, Tamsin. They're going to stop the demons and abominations from coming back," the oldest apprentice answered, biting back the _I hope_ that seemed to hang in the air in front of her.

They settled in for a long time. The children slept in fits and starts all the long wild. Whenever they woke up Petra kept them busy, playing endless games of Wisp Tag. She always made hers move slowly enough so theirs could easily catch it. She made them be very careful while pilling the wisps through the badly damaged Veil, helping them every step of the way every single time.

Finally, Petra heard footsteps. She sent her wisp out to investigate. _I am praying to you, Maker. I pray to you to keep us safe. I pray for the children, _she thought silently as she wondered if the steps belonged to abomination feet. But the footfalls separated into eight distinct sets. Abominations never hunted in groups that large.

First Enchanter Irving rounded the corner leading Petra's wisp. It bobbed back to her and promised her the old man was indeed who he appeared to be. She thanked it and allowed it to sink back to the Fade. When Wynne and Amell came into view, she lowered the wards and stood. The elf did the same.

The large group filed into the room. Irving, Wynne and Amell led the witch, templar, Elvira – an apprentice – Carlston and Cullen the templar. When Cullen took the apprentice cluster in, he stiffened. Petra felt a surge of anti-magic suffuse around him and the wild, hunted look on his face. Amell toughed his arm softly, she said something to the nervous templar and he relaxed a little.

Irving marched to the door and banged on it. He croaked a greeting to Knight-Commander Gregoir. The door opened and Irving led the way through.

Gregoir didn't seem impressed when the mages flooded through. Or when Amell began a heated conversation with him.

Petra sat with Elvira while they spoke. Wynne exchanged a few words with the Tower authorities, then went to her apprentice. "Petra, I'm sorry but I will be leaving with the Wardens. Until I return, Irving will oversee your training," Wynne said.

Petra opened her mouth to argue but her mentor held up her hands.

"I have every intention of returning. But you are almost ready for your Harrowing. Know that I may not be back in time to see you through it. I know you'll do fine. Be good." She moved to turn away. Petra rose and flung her arms around the old woman.

"Don't go Wynne! You're already dead, who knows what could happen?" she argued as she held her mentor close.

"Petra, I can't promise nothing will happen to me, but I can promise I will be careful," Wynne said fiercely.

Petra nodded. "Do that," she growled. "Good luck and may the Maker watch over you."

"May He watch over us all," replied Wynne.

Amell called to her. Wynne responded and gave her apprentice a last hug. Then the old woman joined the cluster of people at the door. They descended into the dock cavern together, leaving Petra behind in Kinloch Hold with the statues and broken children.

~Petra


	17. Quiet Cries

_Second update for today, the men cheered, the women fainted, the children waved multicoloured flags! Ha ha ha ha ha, that was fun. Anyways, Quentin. Contains spoilers for DA II, Act II. I used fem!Hawke again, because I love her._

_Warning, Quentin is prone to mood swings and ADD-like symptoms manifest often throughout this piece. Be warned. If something is unclear, PM me and I'll explain. If it's a common confusion, I will edit. Feel free to let me know what you think! May creep people out. _

_BioWare built, designed, sold, recirulated, cannibalized the people. I just re-an'ed them. Re-animated, that is._

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><p><strong>Quiet Cries<strong>

**Quentin**

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><p><em>Stitch by stitch, row by row<em>

_Gonna make this body go_

Oh my dear, I have found your face at last! She is perfect. And she has children. I've seen her at her daughter's estate in Hightown. Just around the corner from our old home.

My love, we cannot return there. It is someone else's estate now. They bought it from me! I didn't know we would need a home again.

I sent your face a bouquet of white lilies; your favourite. No, she has no idea. I'll just go pick her up shortly.

I said 'shortly!' I still have to attach your left arm, love. Maker, it's rather heavy. It smells a bit too. Be patient, I've been hard-pressed to find all the parts. Why do you think it's taken nearly three years?

If you hit me like that one more time… Don't look at me with those faceless eyes, dear. It's unbecoming.

Fine, fine, I'm going now. Happy? Maker, you've gotten pushy.

Darling, you've gotten maggots down my shirt again. I hate them. They crawl through your toes. They were quite distracting while I sewed your fingers to your hands.

There she is love. See her? Isn't your face marvelous? Come, a little theatrics now dear.

That was better than last time, wasn't it? She's bringing us right back to you. This next part is the tricky bit.

Dear, I seem to have killed her a tad early. Could you keep her heart going a tiny bit longer, please? Here, I'll help. There, with that ugly locket off, you shouldn't have as hard a time.

Okay, that was messier that I intended. Your arms didn't scream quite so loudly. Darling, look at your hair! It's so full and grey! Better than that awful job you did when they put you in that hideous mausoleum for your nap. Now those maggots were thick. All those dead bodies, what did you expect dearest? I still have no idea how they didn't hear you screaming in that dark place. It was all I could hear.

Stand back, sweet, the blood. Here we go. Pass me the needle, will you?

No, it's already threaded, don't – I told you! Now I'll have to do it again!

All right, here we go _again_. Up with the head; I'll just start here, behind the hair. Now you won't catch the know in the thread when I put your wedding dress on you.

Maker, the neck is trickier than I thought. Almost done though. Love, I know what I'm doing. Stop twittering, will you? The stitches are hard enough!

There, done. You look lovely sweet.

I remember! I know the spell!

_Silence!_

I am so sorry, please, forgive me! Please, I – you have no idea how hard it is to keep away from the templars when I have to do such intricate magic. It gets hard, so hard, love, you have no idea.

My dear, you're finished. Open those wonderful eyes. It took so long to find them, I have to see them now.

Again! That's what I meant, dear.

Yes, they are perfect, as are you. Come over –_ No_! Not there, I must yet remove the extra parts. Here love, sit here.

I must fetch your dress. Here you are.

Don't take that tone with me! If I thought you could put it on yourself, I'd have let you. But you are yet too weak to. Get used to your body, love. I'll help you until you are steady.

Dear, I think I hear someone coming. Yes, listen. Do you hear those quiet cries? I knew you could. Rest while I help them away. Here, sit in my chair. I'll be right back, love.

~Quentin


	18. Rhyme and Reason

_So, back to the depressing pieces. R is great. I had fun with the ending. About as much as you can with what I had to work with, at least. The song we quote is _Kingdom Come_ by the Civil Wars._

_BioWare owns what I do not. Share and enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Rhyme and Reason<strong>

**Riordan**

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><p>Overhead the archdemon squealed. Darkspawn swarmed all around. I took a steadying breath and began to climb the stairs. Small patrols of darkspawn filled Fort Drakon nearby. I could feel them moving closer in waves like a sea of poison lapping against the coast. Still I climbed. I had chosen a building completely devoid of darkspawn to keep close to the timeline I'd given the other two Wardens.<p>

I reached the roof. From where I was, close to the archdemon, I heard its commands like claps of thunder in my head. It rallied its troops, spreading the taint evenly through the burning city.

I reached the edge of the building. Below was the roof the black dragon clung to. I could see the claws digging into the slats of wood from the edges of its wide wings. I closed my eyes and, using the method and language of the Old God, shouted, _Up here rot-breath_.

_You play with fire, little thing,_ Urthemeil replied. He swung his head up and around to lock his ice-cold purply-grey eyes on me. _I see you, little thing. Prepare to meet your death._

I drew my blades and crouched as the great beast unhooked his wings, no longer anchoring his body. He launched his immense bulk into the sky. He climbed quickly with a handful of wing beats. Each flap stirred the air into heated storms and drove my eardrums deeper and deeper into my skull.

Urthemiel dropped above me, shaking the old building as he landed heavily. I staggered for a moment then found my feet. I darted to him and began scaling his foreleg. I compared it to Duncan's stories of mounting a high dragon in the Deep Roads. Duncan's dragon was about half the size of the archdemon and it was unlikely her scales were flaking off with age. Or that she was rotting beneath him. Or that she could send him flying end over end in a dream as she brained him.

_Little thing, where have you gone? You cannot hide from me,_ the archdemon goaded.

I reached the crest of his huge back. I clutched the closest spike as I drove my sword into his flesh. He screamed in response and leaped into flight again.

I pulled the dragonbone blade out with a squelch and stabbed it in a new location, searching for the spine.

Urthemiel rolled and banked sharply in an attempt to dislodge me. I squeezed my eyes shut as my stomach tried to fling itself out of my mouth and willed myself to keep trying. The Old God righted himself and I ripped both blades from his hide. That was when he gave a vicious buck. I tumbled through the air then slammed into thin wing membrane with enough force to snap my right arm. I cried out in pain as it traced fiery fingers through my side. Black spots danced before my eyes as I slid down the dragon's limb. With my stronger left hand, I sliced with my dagger, scoring rips through the tender skin. Air buffeted through the strips of wing left and it forced me back along to the edge, trailing black ichor. With a roar of agony, he managed to buck me off.

I spiraled through the dead space. I saw the archdemon smash into the side of Fort Drakon as he managed to climb the air ladder and land atop the tower. He called to the darkspawn to fall back, to defend him.

Then I flipped in the rush of wind. I thought about my Joining._ One day, we shall join you._ Duncan my old friend, I come now. Alistair, you and your friend will end Urthemiel. I have no doubt about that.

I remembered Jader in the spring, the forest purple with lavender blossoms. How I longed to see my home one last time. But that would never happen now. There seemed to be some kind of rhyme and reason to the deaths of we Wardens, but for all my code skills, I would never have figured I would join them. Not like this.

But it wasn't entirely a bad way to go. Sure, I'd splatter all over whomever happened to be running by, but at least I wouldn't have to die slowly or painfully of the Wasting Disease. Or die alone in agony in the dark of the Deep Roads like Kell and Hafter. Nope, Riordan gets to paint himself all over Denerim's streets. Joy.

I flipped again. _You've met your match with these Wardens_, I warned.

_Little thing, if you do not mind, you can spatter all over your precious little Wardens. I am Urthemiel, do not make me laugh, _he answered with a loud huff of laughter,

_Run, run, run away / By yourself another day / A cold wind's whispering / secrets in your ear, so low only you can hear / Run, run, run and hide / somewhere no one else can find,_ I taunted the archdemon. _Don't you fret my dear_ _/ It'll all be over soon / I'll be waiting here for you_

_Funny words, little things. I am not afraid of you._

_Don't be afraid of me, be afraid of Alistair Theirin and Aria Amell, _I thought to him.

I sensed them drawing close. I was sorry they'd have to see my end. I closed my eyes and felt nothing, saw nothing, experienced nothing, knew nothing more.

~Riordan


	19. Shameless Squishing

_I originally set out to write a funny story for Shale, but then I wrote W and throught, _there's no following that._ So, here is a darker, more serious stroy for everyone's favourite golem._

_Do I really have to do the disclaimer again? You all know it. Go ahead. Share and enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Shameless Squishing<strong>

**Shale**

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><p>Golem. That is what I am. I have only foggy memories of before it found me. Wilhelm came before. I am happy he is dead. <em>Do this, fetch that, place it here, lift those, do not kill me.<em> It was all quite grating. But then I froze in the village square. It figures that would happen after I gained my freedom.

I slept as a golem would. I was aware of everything that passed by me. I did not grow weary or uncomfortable. Each turn of the seasons barely seemed to last in my dormant eyes.

In that time I seemed to dream. Horrible flashes of dark caverns and doing Wilhelm's bidding in the rebellion or searching for crystals. It always felt right when I was underground. As if the stone was singing. The feeling tugged on me when Wilhelm and I ascended to the surface.

I dreamed also of being a soft fleshbag. I was small and fast. I could move as I wished when I wished. Then I went into a tunnel and there was pain. When I moved after that it was slow and lumbering. In those dreams, I was surrounded by dwarves. I once saw my name written down. _Shayle._ That was never how Wilhelm had written it. There was never a _y_.

When I was roused from my strange slumber, imagine if it would, the surprise. The village was burning. Darkspawn from the tunnels were all around. Then it freed me. I felt no compulsion to obey its commands. It offered me a way to leave that place. So I joined it.

When we returned to the tunnels, I felt the stone call. It was better than my foggy dreams. I knew this was where I belonged.

When the old mage travelled to Tevinter with me, we discovered I was a dwarf named Shayle before becoming a golem. I volunteered to become one to benefit my house. But they were killed by darkspawn as I transferred bodies. I was left alone in the golem cave until Wilhelm came along, the filthy scavenger.

Now, if it doesn't mind, I would like to stop this speaking. I would much prefer a bit of shameless squishing of the feathered fiends. I have heard Redcliffe has a rather healthy crop of pigeons. Perhaps it will accompany me there?

~Shale


	20. Turn the Lights Off

_These next two were my favourite to write along with Q and W, so I hope you all share and enjoy as always. Even if it's only a quarter of the fun I had writing them, you'll be in heaven._

_Thanks for the continued support. What can I say other than that we're almost done. Brings a tear to my eye, that._

_BioWare designed, built and sold the pond. I am only a fish writing like I'm possessed._

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><p><strong>Turn the Lights Off<strong>

**Tamlen**

_I wasn't crazy until I met you - Text Me Back ~ Your Favorite Martian_

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><p>Wandering. Burning. Confused. Mahariel. Shemlen. Broken images swirled. They tried to fit together a few ways. Somehow they fell into place.<p>

We had been hunting and found a group of shems. Mahariel got a story about some ruins out of them. We went to the ruin. There were some diseased creatures we had killed.

The mirror. Creators, it was the mirror. Mahariel told me to stay away from it. But I heard its whispers. When I touched it, I saw a city. It glittered blackly all around, yet I remained in the ruin.

The voice in the city told me I had to leave. I ignored it though. I stayed and glimpsed the Black City's secrets. Then I was burning, ears hotter than fire.

I saw myself in Mahariel's eyes, twisted. Deformed. She backed away from me. My best friend could not bear the sight of my grey skin and black eyes.

I wandered. I followed the ruins, wondering where the woman I'd hoped to someday marry was. For her sake, I hoped she wasn't burning too.

As I ghosted alone through the tunnels, I bounced off the walls painfully. I could not see properly in the ruins that were at once dim and too bright. So I slammed into the wall.

The whispers began a time later. Some spoke the language of the Dales, others poke in the Tevinter tongue and more used the language of the shems. I understood all and nothing they said to me.

I tried in vain to pray to the Creators, but could only see the Dread Wolf in my mind's eye. So I prayed to him to take the pain from me. He laughed and nodded his assent.

I found myself on the floor of the ruins a time after that. Broken chips of tile and gnarled roots protruded from the soil in the half light. I dragged myself along the ground. The mirror.

The grand mirror rose up on its pedestal. Shining brightly against my eyes. I blinked, trying to rid my vision of the glare. Light streamed in from somewhere above. Twisting strands of vine climbed the frame of the wonderful, cursed thing. In the reflection, I saw Mahariel standing next to me. She smiled, joined by Merrill, the Keeper's First who was crying. Mahariel waved. I jerked my arm in response, nearly upending myself in the process.

They were joined by a tall, bearded shemlen. They left together, Mahariel cast a long look back at me as they went.

A sound broke from my chest, a long and pain-filled one like a wounded animal.

No more could I look at the treacherous and kind object. I drifted to a new section of ruin. Alone. Burning and wondering.

I thought I would burn to death, but no. I was gripped by spasms for a time. Consciousness faded in and out. When I at last had a hold on myself again, I was cool. My eyes opened. Everything was overbright. I continued to lay there in the dust where I had fallen.

Engulfed in dust. Left in the dust. I stayed a long time there. Then I felt lighter. I crawled blindly through the dust. When I moved, however, the dust remained. I marveled as I stood, casting it aside without a touch.

Then something awful and amazing happened. I passed through a wall.

And still I drifted.

Winds howling through the roof changed. And again. Still I lingered, uncertain what to do next.

A time after, she returned. With her was a nervous shemlen mage and another child of the Dales. I followed them through my ruin. They went to the chamber.

When we entered, I was horrified. My mirror was in pieces. After the vision, I had avoided the mirror. I wondered who had done that awful and perfect thing.

The shem plucked a shard of it and used lanterns to focus energy. Evil things filled the room. I looked on mournfully, I could do nothing, for Mahariel or the eluvian, as they called it.

Then it was over. The others started for the entrance. Mahariel stayed.

"Tamlen?" she asked.

I stroked her face. I wished I could say something, that she could feel me.

Her pale green eyes found me. I smiled and she returned it. Hers was tinged with sorrow.

She bent and scraped in the earth. _I am sorry_, as though she wanted the message to last until the ruin passed into nothing.

I wondered. Then I reached down too. _Turn the lights off_. Though the ritual of sorts was over, the lanterns flooded the chamber with light still.

A frown furrowed Mahariel's brow. She touched the nearest one tenderly. They immediately went out, plunging the ruin into abrupt darkness again.

I led her out to the entrance, wishing I could tell her goodbye. I heard her leave with her companions.

Alone again. For a time, I drifted.

Then I grew tired. I found my bones and laid down on them in the dark silence. I closed my eyes and all feeling slipped away as I drifted off to sleep.

~Tamlen


	21. Untold

_Second half for today. Of course I'd come up with a kickass demon name _now._ Oh, well. What are you going to do? Hint: read and enjoy._

_BioWare designed, built and sold the pool. I am only a fish living in said pool_

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><p><strong>Untold<strong>

**Uldred**

_What we gonna do tonight, Brain? We gonna take over the world, gonna take over the world - Take Over the World ~ Your Favorite Martian_

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><p>He reaches through the Veil. He easily finds the demon on the other side. It has been waiting for him. He pulls it through as he's done several times before. This time the demon will be bonded to the mage writhing on the floor.<p>

The blood mages focus their mana on the helpless man. They converge their power as Uldred coaxes the demon into its new form. He pushes it into its host and steps back.

The abomination stands. It makes a few experimental slashes, then slowly stalks away.

"Uldred." He turns to Irving. The old man is very weak. He will break soon. "Uldred," the First Enchanter croaks again.

"What old fool?" he sneers at Irving.

"You weren't always this way."

No, he wasn't. Once, Uldred was a nice little boy. He had a mother, father, older brother and younger sister. But they died in the fire Uldred had started before he could control his power. He had arrived at the Tower a quiet and obedient child. He pulled decent marks in all his classes. He made good friends.

Then his Harrowing came. He had nearly given in to the demons. He began to have worse nightmares than most. One by one, his friends had died. One failed his Harrowing. Another took her own life, still another became deathly ill. Then it was only Uldred and the girl he loved. They met as many young mages did. One stolen secret moment that became many.

Then she too, disappeared. Days turned into weeks. Weeks became months. Uldred withdrew. He became the subdued man he was when he first arrived. When the templars sound her remains hidden away in the repository, a favourite place of theirs, they knew who was responsible.

Uldred hadn't done it. His pride had. The demon was the cause of each death; Uldred hadn't known it at the time. Whenever the demon took control, it shut him out. Uldred went into a stupor and would never remember what Zeylyn did. When the pride demon finally told Uldred what went on, Zeylyn was all he had left.

He studied long about abominations and possessions but never found anything that might help him. Zeylyn would creep up inside and whisper why Uldred had sought it out in the beginning. He was smarter than Enchanter Iwan, stronger than Myrna and more skilled than Kale. Wynne was frail and old, Irving was not halting the rumors about him stepping down in the near future. All Uldred needed was a little help and support.

He never fought hard against Zeylyn during these times. The demon had the means to rid the Tower of the templars and the Chantry rule. It knew how to free the mages.

"No, Irving. I wasn't always like this," Uldred answers finally. "I used to be weak."

He motions for the next mage for treatment. The young woman is shoved roughly to the cold stone floor with a squeal.

He calls Zeylyn up inside, feeding off its power. It warns him enemies are nearby. Someone the pride knows. The face flashes before Uldred's eyes. Amell. Irving's little pet.

Zeylyn still wants to thank her for making Sloth teach it how to shift into a bereskarn.

Uldred shoves the demon down. She could be converted. If she refuses, Zeylyn can have her. It coils like an impatient viper deep inside. It sulks as it feeds Uldred's mage conversion.

Amell, Wynne, a raven-haired woman with wild, lyrium-free magic and a templar stride into the Harrowing Chamber. Uldred chose this as the conversion place for irony's sake. The place where mages once resisted demons became the room the two were bonded.

"Uldred, this ends now," challenges Amell in a growl.

"Would you like to play?" Flanked by abominations, blood mages and a supply of mages who haven't yet been converted, Uldred is at an advantage. Plus with Niall trapped in the Fade, the Litany of Andralla lays forgotten in his robe pocket. Even if these four got past Sloth, they can't have it.

Amell draws her staff. "You can't offer me anything but your death."

Zeylyn laughs as he rises inside. Uldred gives in to the pride demon. Zeylyn takes on his favourite form, a towering beast heavy with muscle. Long claws stretch from thick fingers and toes; fangs drip with poison. Uldred pushes up enough to see through its eyes and not annoy the pride.

Zeylyn laughs again, a deep sound loud enough to rattle the ceiling and reverberate in the humans' chests. It knows if it wins this battle, the last person to stand against it with any threat will be gone. It can unleash untold horrors then. It will have enough power to destroy Uldred forever. It knows it will stalk these haunted halls until every last being is slaughtered mercilessly. Then it will turn its violently green gaze upon Thedas.

Uldred shivers inside, wondering what he has done. Then the pride crushes him down. It sneers at his former imprisoner. Zeylyn twists Uldred's face in the dirt of his soul. It cackles with delight as Uldred screams in pain. Zeylyn knows it has already won an important battle as Uldred's essence spins away.

~Uldred


	22. Veritable Fire

_Part two of Brother Mine. Post DA II, Varric visits his brother. This was quite a conversational piece to write. Everytime I read the end of it I can't help but choke up. Thanks for the continued support. Believe me when I say we are near the end._

* * *

><p><strong>Veritable Fire<strong>

**Varric**

* * *

><p>Bartrand, brother, what happened to you? That idol has taken everything from you You don't even know I'm here beside you right now. I thought after your deterioration progressed this far it would be better. That with the unknowing you would be easier to deal with than when you were trying to kill me.

I come to see you whenever I get the time but with Hawke, it's rare I have time enough for myself. Maybe I'm lying. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I go out with Hawke so I don't have to visit you.

This is all my fault. Really, it is. If I hadn't invited Hawke to join the expedition, you never would have gotten the coin to finance it. Or maybe we wouldn't have gone as far in as the idol chamber without the protection of Hawke, Carver and Blondie. Or maybe we would have.

Imagine my shock when Meredith had the idol. For her it became an immensely powerful blade. She tapped into a large part of its powers. I'm glad you were too stupid to. I couldn't have dealt with a strong Bartrand that tried to kill me with masonry. Hawke would have killed you for certain in that case.

Brother, do you remember our family? Mama and Pop? Do you remember they died? Or that they once promised to bring us to Orzammar? How could you, you don't even remember your own name, never mind something that happened ten or so years ago?

I think you might be the lucky one, not having to live with so much. You don't have to visit your brain-dead brother. Or watch him drool in response to articulated questions.

Hawke and Blondie tell me not to give up on you, but they know as well as I do you can't be fixed. Two healers have no idea what to do, why should the orderlies here have any more insight?

Do you know what the worst part of this is? That you don't. You don't understand a word of what I tell you. You have no clue what's going on around you. And it kills me to see you like this/

I'd give anything to go back to the day you locked me in the Deep Roads. Bad idea, maybe the day we left for the Deep Roads.

Did you hear Carver contracted the taint? Because we ran into darkspawn enough to sink a warship trying to get back to the surface. Blondie knew enough to bring Carver to the Grey Wardens. That is where the lad is now.

Do you remember Blondie? You liked him, brother. He was always nice to me. And Rivaini. I miss them. We have gone our separate ways now. At least Daisy visits sometimes. And Hawke and Blondie have stuck around. For now. Two apostates wanted for blowing up the chantry and the murder of Grand Cleric Elthina, it's only a matter of time before they skip town. As it is, they're camped out on the Wounded Coast.

Do you remember when I pushed you down the chantry stairs? In a barrel. Boy, I thought you were going to kill me when I pulled you out. Serves you right for falling asleep in the middle of my story. No, the glassy-eyed stare is saying more than you ever will. You have no idea I'm even talking to you. None at all.

You don't even know what's happening in Kirkwall. With the Gallows torn apart, more templars were sent by the Divine in an attempt to mend the mess. After having burned to the ground twice in the last three years, it's taking time to rebuild the city again. The qunari and mage-templar war really did a number on the old rock. But it will be put back together fairly well again. Unlike the shards of your mind. That's as scrambled as an egg.

Seeing you like this, brother, is like a veritable fire; impossible to look away from and painful to get close to. Unbearable when exposed to for too long.

I'm sorry Bartrand. I have to go now. I would tell you not to worry, that I'll come back, but I can tell from the blank stares and drool you don't care.

I am so sorry, brother mine.

~Varric


	23. Would I Rather What Now?

_This one was very fun to write. Think about it, every playable character apart from Loghain in one place to have an all-character game of Would You Rather - with a twist. I imagined the whole story from Isabela and Justice playing at the camp and thought _Hey, everyone should be there!_ This is the clean(er) version of the original that Mave loves so much. Seriously, I have never had a story be retold quite like this one. Thanks for making me smile. you all!_

_Can you belive we only have three left? It kind of feels like goodbye, doesn't it?_

* * *

><p><strong>Would I Rather What Now?<strong>

**Wynne**

* * *

><p>Wynne was confused. She only knew half of the people situated around the fire. Everyone from the Blight she recognized, the others she did not. It didn't help that they had all been drinking all day.<p>

Regardless, everyone seemed comfortable where they were, the Wardens in particular.

Wynne was confused because they were trying to involve her in a game. In her defense, it was a thoroughly complex game.

"Come on, you'll have fun," Anders pleaded. The girl hanging off his arm nodded, her blue eyes glassy. Anders patted her black hair. "Easy Hawke."

"Look, I don't know what's so hard about the rules," Alistair said for the sixth time in a row. "Someone asks whether you want a truth or dare, then what you would rather do. If you choose dare, you have to do it."

"All right already," called Varric. He edged away from Oghren and Sigrun, casting suspicious glares at the other dwarves as he went. "Just start!"

"I'm starting," the Hero stood, "since it was my idea."

"Then start!" Fenris shouted irritably.

"I choose…" the Warden made a face at the elf and spoke loudly. "I choose Isabela. Truth or dare?"

"Dare," the Rivaini pirate shoved sideways from Zevran, who was being distracting.

"I have an idea." Hawke jumped up, dragged Anders with her.

"It's not your turn!" whined Leliana.

"Would you rather," Aira plowed on, "lick your foot, or Oghren's?"

Isabela shot the red-headed and pungent dwarf a look. "My own foot. Not even a choice." She shucked off her boot and sock. She bent over and licked her foot. All the single men shifted around uncomfortably at the sight of so much leg. Varric whispered something to his crossbow.

Isabela looked at Anders as she relaced her boot. "Is Justice playing?"

Wynne started as her ex-pupil's eyes glowed blue. Splits appeared in his skin, flooding the circle with ice-blue light.

"It would not be fair if I did not," boomed a deeper voice from Anders's mouth.

"Shhh, love. That isn't what she meant," Hawke said gently, sober in an instant. She swept her hand over Anders's messy hair.

"Here we go," muttered Caver.

Nathaniel put his head in his hands. "Maker's breath."

"I chose truth," Justice said, getting to the point.

"Would you rather be poked in the eye or kicked in the head?" giggled the pirate.

"I would rather neither happened."

"'Tis not allowed, choose one," Morrigan explained calmly.

"I would rather be poked in the eye," the spirit sighed dramatically. "I don't know why you would ask though." He cast about. "Velanna, truth or dare?"

"Dare," the Dalish elf stopped giggling with Morrigan in time to answer."

"Would you rather wash your mouth out with soap or stinging nettles?" Justice asked.

"Oh, good one," Merrill enthused.

"You give elvhen mages a bad name," hissed Velanna. She turned back to Justice. "Soap."

Oghren's flowery soap is passed to her along with a bucket of lake water. Velanna took a deep breath as she wet the soap and rubbed it in her hands. Screwing her eyes shut, she stuffed the bar into her mouth. Suds oozed out as the mage gagged. Merrill poured water into her neighbour's face.

After she recovered, Velanna asked, "Hawke, truth or - ?"

"Dare," the black-haired mage cut her off.

Velanna smiled wickedly, showing a few lingering soap bubbles. "Would you rather stick your head in Oghren's old smallclothes or kiss Vengeance?"

Oghren's head spun around "Wh-" he cut himself off with a huge belch.

"I would much rather kiss Vengeance," Hawke answered with a look at Oghren.

"I think everyone would," Alistair murmured in Aira's ear.

"Except maybe Shale," she whispered back.

Wynne watched Hawke and Justice stand again. Just before their lips met, Wynne aw the brown eyes of Anders return.

"Close your eyes and think of Antiva," Anders said in a passable imitation of the spirit.

"I've never been to Antiva though," Hawke objected. Then she and Anders had their arms tightly around one another.

"Aw, gross sister," Caver complained. "This is what you were doing for six years while the rest of us were chasing darkspawn?"

Almost everyone else was whooping and hollering at the pair making out. Finally they broke apart and sat back down, fingers twined.

"Zevran, truth or dare?" Hawke asked.

Dare," the Antivan broke off his conversation with Isabela.

"Well, he _did_ say to think of Antiva…" Sebastian spoke up.

"Would you rather eat bark off that tree," Hawke pointed at a gnarled balsam, "or eat algae from the lake?"

Everyone yelled what they'd rather do, hoping Zev would choose their option.

Zevran made a lewd comment about wood as he indicated what his decision was.

Shale, who was standing closest to the tree, peeled off a chunk of bark from the trunk and lobbed it at the assassin. Zevran bit of a large section and chewed it. He grinned after swallowing hard. "Easy."

"Just pick somebody!" Sigrun yelled.

"My dear Wynne, truth or dare?" How had she known this was when this would pop up again.

"Dare," she sighed, feigning knowledge and praying he would reconsider.

"Would you rather butt heads with Sten or allow me to rest my head on your bosom?"

"Told you so," Alistair said to Leliana.

"Would I rather what now?" rasped Wynne.

"Headbutt Sten or let Zevran put his head on your chest," giggled Aveline from beside Sebastian.

Wynne cringed? Why had she took a dare? Never mind that, why did she agree to play? "Oh, all right Zevran. Keep in mind I am more than old enough to be your grandmother. My son is much older than you," she conceded.

Zevran stood and crossed the circle. He plunked down on Wynne's lap and leaned against her. He closed his eyes and sighed theatrically. Oghren whooped loudly. Zevran sat up. "Thank you, my dear," he said as he crossed back to his seat.

"Oghren: truth or dare?" Wynne asked archly.

"Dare," he yelled. "You can't scare me!"

"Would you rather be sat on by Shale or drink pickle brine again?"

Shale bounced up and down. "I want to squish it," she put in excitedly.

"Where's the pickle juice?" Oghren eyed Shale warily as he spoke.

Leliana produced the jar from her pack and handed it over. Oghren accepted it from her and began to toss it back.

"Morrigan, truth or… uh…" Oghren mumbled around his jar.

"Truth, Morrigan replied. She looked down her nose in disgust at him.

Oghren put forward a very inappropriate question about Morrigan.

"There's a line behind you, Oghren, go cross it," Aira thundered. To give the dwarf credit, he didn't look over his shoulder. "Morrigan, choose someone."

The witch turned to Sigrun as Alistair went from deep crimson to his normal colouring.

"Both would be to die, Morrigan. I would rather return to the Depths than die," the Legionnaire scout was answering. "Merrill?"

Dare," Merrill said, tucking her feet under her.

"Would you rather be covered in mud or soaked?"

Merrill replied, "Soaked."

Velanna obliged and upended her bucket of soapy water on the other Dalish elf.

"Oh, it's cold!" Merrill yelped. She sat down again. Velanna shoved over until she was practically sitting on Leliana. "Aveline?"

Wynne zoned out for a moment. Why were they playing this game? In the beginning it was more fun, now that she was done, the others were getting ridiculous. A murmur went up around the fire as the Guard-Captain answered her question. "So, if I'm off the hook…? Sebastian?"

"Dare, I guess," he said, tearing his gaze off Oghren gulping down his pickle juice.

"Would you rather hug Merrill now, or jump in the lake later?"

In response, the archer jumped up and jogged over to the elf. They awkwardly embraced for a short moment. Sebastian pulled away. The front of his tunic was wet.

"Sten," Sebastian addressed the qunari, "truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Would you rather give up your sword or convert to the Chantry?"

"I would rather give Asala to you." The giant frowned at Sebastian. "Leliana?"

She replied dare.

"Would you rather never sing again or sing until you died?"

"I would – wait, could I chant?"

Sten nodded.

"Could I hum?"

"Yes," he said tiredly.

"Never sing again." She looked around. "Fenris?"

"Truth," he answered sulkily.

"Would you rather have me or Sebastian recite the whole Chant of Light to you?" she asked.

"You. Yes, you." The elf threw Sebastian a glance. "Shale."

"Truth too," she answered slowly.

Fenris asked if she would prefer taking orders from Wilhelm or a pigeon.

"My master," she replied immediately. Oghren belched loudly and put his jar down as she asked Nathaniel.

"Dare," he said.

"Would you rather pet a bird or sleep on a rock?" The golem narrowed its gaze as it spoke.

"Pet a bird?" Nathaniel looked confused. "Is there one I could use?"

Shale lobbed a dead crow at him. He patted it gingerly before burying it at his feet. "Um, that was odd. Varric?"

The dwarf was stroking Bianca and said, "Truth." He would rather tell everyone assembled how the crossbow's name came about. Then he frowned around. "Blondie!"

Anders was dared to sit on Oghren's lap until the game ended. He looked over to Carver as he changed the seating arrangement. "Truth or dare?"

Carver followed the Warden mage to his new location. "Truth."

"Would you rather live with Gamlen forever or eat a slug?"

"I've eaten a slug before. Remember that Marian?" Hawke nodded with a grin. "I think I'm going to have to go with the slug. It wasn't that bad. Alistair, ser?"

Alistair thought for a moment. "Dare."

"Would you rather… I wish you had picked truth, I had a good one for that. Um… would you rather eat your own stew or be covered in ants?" Carver finally asked.

"Is my stew really that bad?" Alistair demanded. There were nods all around the gathering. He tasted some of it and made gagging noises. "Just kidding, I have no idea what you all are on about," Alistair proclaimed when he was done. "Yup, this is great. Love?"

Aira shook her head. "None for me, thanks. Oh, you mean – got you. Dare."

Alistair pushed her into Nathaniel. "Would you rather like a lamppost in winter or kiss me?"

"Base on what you've told me, I'd much rather kiss you," she laughed. Then they did.

Wynne stood. "Does this mean the game is over now?"

"Yes, we're done," Aira answered.

Anders stood appreciatively. "Well, that was weird," Wynne announced.

Everyone laughed.

~Wynne


	24. Explain Eternal

_Two more after this one. Love you all!_

* * *

><p><strong>Explain Eternal<strong>

**Xenon**

* * *

><p>One wish? What was this woman, a lazy genie? Very well.<p>

"I wish for eternal life," Xenon said smugly.

The old, lady bowed her head, showing off her grey hair. She laid a hand on his head. He drank in the magic eagerly and was disappointed when the Witch drew away.

"Your wish has been granted. Go now and know there is no undoing it," the Witch warned in a grave, weathered voice.

"Why would I want to undo it?" Xenon asked in bewilderment.

"When you watch those you love die, knowing you will go on long after their names fade from memory, you may have an answer." The woman leveled her eyes at him, filling him with a moment of doubt. He shoved the hesitation away. There _was no going back._

"Maybe you really aren't all-knowing. There is no one left I love. I am the only survivor of my village. All I knew have perished," Xenon replied quietly, heavily, as though each syllable was painful to utter.

The Witch began to move away.

"Witch of the Weyrs! I mean to thank you!" Xenon shouted. He scrambled after her. But it didn't matter how fast he moved, she remained unreachable. Even though she walked sedately the entire time, he still couldn't catch up. Until Xenon rounded a curve in the bluff and she was altogether gone.

X

Many years passed. Xenon raised and lost many fortunes in that time. It mattered not. He continued to age, much to his dismay. In a dream, he sought the Witch our.

When he confronted her, she cackled at him. "I granted your wish. Eternal life."

"Then why do I keep growing old?" he demanded.

"Ah, but you never once requested eternal _youth_. I could have given that to you too," the Witch replied slyly. "You are to blame for your own troubles, Xenon."

"But surely this won't last forever," Xenon gasped as he began to panic.

"Must I explain 'eternal' to you?" huffed the woman indignantly. "Farewell, Xenon. We two will not meet again."

And they didn't.

X

Xenon traveled to from the land of his home to the Free Marches before he became too frail for the journey. He purchased a shop and sold everything from tomes to, after sufficient time, his furniture. That was when he became The Antiquarian. The shop exclusively stocked antiques after that.

He became withered beyond belief.

He now sits on his chair in the Black Emporium and researches possible cures. He treats his condition as an affliction to be rid of. He invites his customers based on wealth and taste. He has grown shrewd and every fiber of fragile being, every though of his sharp mind is bent on death now. He spends his money on ideas for his cure above all. After all, he has all the time in the world. The man – if he can still be labeled that – has seen the turn of two ages. He has learned much, seen everything and experienced it all.

Be wary of any dealings with witches. They are sly and will twist any good thing when they give it to you. Learn from the tale of Xenon the Antiquarian. Above all in life, be explicitly clear of your intentions. Foolproof is better than paper thin and immortal. Take it from Xenon.

~Xenon


	25. Yellow

_This is the penultimate chapter of Soup. Feels like this has been such a long time, hasn't it? I'll be going away for the next two weeks as of May 18. See you in June!_

_BioWare designed, built and sold the pond. I am only a fish swimming in said pond._

* * *

><p><strong>Yellow<strong>

**Yuriah**

* * *

><p>"Are you sure?" she breathed in his ear.<p>

"Why wouldn't I be?" he countered in the same hushed tone.

She shrugged, the movement brushing his chest. "Amaranthine is very far…"

He sighed. "I know. But I need the coin. And I'll be coming back."

She returned the sigh. "I guess so."

"You know you can come, there'll be enough room at Vigils Keep," he suggested hopefully.

"You know I can't leave Father alone. And he would never manage the journey from the Bannorn. Not in his condition." Ah, yes. Old man Shelton's _condition_. Always a different answer as to what that entailed. One day it might be a fever or joint pain and the next day it could be his left side wasn't working properly.

"All right, you can't come. I'll miss you every day though," he conceded.

She stretched up to plant a kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow before you leave, right?"

"Of course, I couldn't leave without saying goodbye," he replied with a grin.

She walked back to her house with a grin tossed over her shoulder.

He sighed. He would definitely miss her. But once he came back, they would have the coin to marry. He turned back to his own home to finish preparations.

Y

He woke in the middle of the night after the first scream. Bolt upright in bed, he heard the sound of steel on steel and shuffling feet.

He hesitated for a second to be certain something was indeed going on. Then he leaped into his clothes. He grabbed his hunting knife and peeked out the window of his small, one-room house.

It was still dark. It took a heartbeat to figure that out because the village was burning. Everything outside his window was engulfed in flames. He sprang out the gap in the wall, shouldering the pack filled with his things. He sprinted to the stable. As he pulled open the door, he muttered a quick thanks to the Maker it wasn't a smoldering pile of ash. And that it didn't look to become one. Yet.

He tried to block out the yells of pain as he swiftly threw a saddle on his horse. He thanked the Maker again that he lived far from the main village as he swung up on Dusk. Then he pushed the dappled grey mare into a gallop. They rode over the hill which met the road on the far side. He rode for a day west away from the skeleton of his home village.

Smoke plumed from the south and back the way he had come. Whatever was happening, it was spreading fast.

He rode until the moon rose well into the sky at a more reasonable trot. When he brought Dusk to a halt he slid off her back and rummaged through his pack with numb fingers. He pulled out a small amount of salted meat and bread. He ate while watching his mare graze nearby. He thought they would arrive in Amaranthine late the next day. Where would he go though? He wasn't supposed to even _be there_ for three more days. Well, he'd just figure it out when he got there.

He stumbled into a close by stand of oak trees, leading Dusk. He hitched the mare to a sturdy looking tree and apologized for not removing her tack or rubbing her down. He lay at her hooves and since he was exhausted, fell asleep immediately.

He dreamt of his friends that night. He dreamed that he returned and found their bodies piled high, stretching into the sky. They all babbled about how he ran while they died. The girl he loved watched him with glossed-over grey eyes, unseeing.

When he woke, the sun was barely above the horizon. Dusk was dozing quietly. He ate more bread and let her sleep a bit longer. When the mare woke, he fed her some apples and led her to a stream. He clambered back into the saddle as she drank. When she was finished he pointed her in the direction of the arling and sat back.

He was sore from yesterday's ride and wasn't looking forward to today's. He was also very nervous. Every sound made him start, as though it was those things that attacked his village, come to kill him.

He was relieved when he at last saw Amaranthine as the last rays of sun bled from the sky. He asked Dusk to pick up the pace a little. Soon they were stopped at the gates of the city.

"Where're ya from ser?" the guard asked.

"Village two and a half, three days' ride east along the Imperial Highway," he answered. "We were attacked two days ago now. Woke up and the whole village was alight."

The guard nodded. "Darkspawn're spreadin'. Most're in Denerim now. Don't panic overmuch, Grey Wardens'll clean 'em up. Arl Eamon 'n them're there now." The guard scratched his chin thoughtfully. "What's yer business here then…?"

"I'm supposed to be outfitting the soldiers at the Keep, ser."

"When're ya s'posed to start?"

"Three days from now."

The guard nodded. "An' you'll be stayin'?"

"The Keep ser."

"All right then. Tell ya what. I'll let ya in. You go on up to Vigils an' ya tell 'em whatcha tell me. They'll straighten it all out." The guard stepped to the side.

Dusk pranced forward, dragging him along as he tried to keep a grip on her lead. After he got the mare under control, he led her through the city and up to the double doors that opened to the pathway up to Vigils Keep. There he climbed back into his saddle. The sun was beginning to sink low behind the trees when he arrived in the city, now it pushed the last fingers of light above the horizon. By the time Dusk was turned out with the other horses, the moon had peeked over the land.

At the oaken doors of the Keep, he recounted his story to the soldier there who let him in. "Go in and speak with Seneschal Varel in the main hall," she said.

Varel was a tall and imposing figure in his shining silverite plate. Varel had been rubbing his temples under his messy grey hair when he was escorted in. Now the seneschal was listening intently to the third retelling of the tale. "We would be more than happy to have you start immediately," Seneschal Varel announced afterward.

So he did.

Y

He was promised there would be no more darkspawn when the death of the archdemon was proclaimed. Despite the Grey Wardens who had trickled in since then, that promise was broken. He hid in the dungeon with the Howe prisoner – the pariah – until the Commander of Grey came down the stairs. She smiled politely as he introduced himself. Then he made the appropriate excuses and returned to the main hall to recover his wares.

Y

As the weeks passed, the hall grew crowded. The dwarf from Orzammar who'd arrived a month ago was joined by the apostate, the Dalish mage, Legionnaire dwarf woman, Nathaniel Howe and the spirit-possessed body of Kristoff, whom he had encountered before. He got to know them all in his dealings with them and the Warden Commander.

And then darkspawn attacked again. For five days he feared he would die. He loathed that every promise made to him counted for nothing. The Grey Wardens killed every last one. Again.

Y

A year later, he got the chance to travel back to the site of his home. When he and Dusk crested the hill, he wasn't prepared for the heaps of ash and charred wood that was left.

He wandered, silently weeping for everything lost, through the empty bones of his home for a long time.

As he turned to leave, he spotted a small, yellow flower blooming in her house. "Oh, Susan," he breathed painfully at the sight of the black-eyed susans growing in her room. He sobbed in earnest then and for a long time after departing the shell of life left of his village.

He was told someone was waiting for him when he made his slow way into the Keep. He was tired and just wanted to sleep, but instead of shearing off left to his quarters, he kept on straight to the main hall.

In the time that had passed, Anders and Justice had left. No one had gone after them on the Commander's orders. Velanna – who had disappeared for several months and returned a more peaceful elf for it – and Sigrun were out in the Wending Wood together looking for sylvan bark. Oghren was in Orzammar to see the Shaper and Nathaniel, the Commander and Alistair Theirin were in Denerim for a meeting with Queen Anora. He had the place entirely to himself.

He opened the door. He heard a squeal and felt someone grab him tightly. "Yuriah, you're alive!"

"Susan, I thought you were dead," he laughed in response.

They sat together by the fire and explained how they each survived the darkspawn attack. Susan had gone out for herbs to help her father sleep and had seen the monsters set fire to the village. She had gone to Denerim and arrived after the Grey Wardens and their army.

After that, they went to Yuriah's rooms and spent many long days together. Yuriah was happy for the first time in a long time.

~Yuriah


	26. Zigzags Around Me

_So this is it. The final chapter of Alphabet Soup. I would like to thank you all for seeing this project through. This is a big moment for me, my first finished story. I hope you all have/do enjoy/ed Soup!_

_This chapter is all about everyone's favourite playable Crow._

_Thank you for all you reviews. They keep me going and going and going. And updating more than I should. Believe me._

_Share and enjoy and be sure to let me know what you thought, all right?_

_BioWare owns what I do not._

* * *

><p><strong>Zigzags Around Me<strong>

**Zevran**

* * *

><p>Meet me upstairs, Zevran?" Rinna asked. She pinned me to the wall with her grey eyes.<p>

I grinned. "Of course, my dear."

Rin nodded and moved away. She swiped at Taliesin's face playfully as she retreated. He jerked away from her long, slim fingers.

"You know I hate it when you do that, yes?" he asked pointedly. His brown eyes raked Rinna over.

"No, you enjoy it. More than anything in the world," she laughed, flicking her hair over her shoulder in long blonde sheets.

Taliesin rose and joined me against the wall as she flounced from the room. "I hate this safe house too."

I looked at him. He was resting with his shoulders and neck against the plaster and one foot on the floor. He had crossed his arms over his large chest. Taliesin half-lidded his eyes to match my expression.

"But it is beautiful, no? I think the layout is perfect; the kitchen is large, as are the bedchambers. We are situated by the main market and the roads do not hold rainwater. What's to hate?" I asked.

Taliesin rolled his eyes. "We've been here too long. Other cells while find out where we stay soon. Ignacio's group is on our tail already. You know this."

I did know that. Last week there had been an… altercation. We – Tal, Rin and I – had been running a job when another Crow showed up. He told us we were doing the wrong thing. He said our orders had changed and we had to mend our mistake.

Then Taliesin killed him. I saw the strange Crow make for his dagger and reached for mine, but my friend was quicker.

We found out later that the Crow in question was of Ignacio's. They knew we had murdered theirs. Our masters didn't care about inter-cell disputes, we owed loyalty only to our cell and the Crows as a whole.

Just then, the landlady came in. She placed an envelope on the table Tal had just vacated.

"Rin," I called, "come back!"

The Crow beside me pounced on the envelope. He tore into it and pulled out a heavy off-white piece of paper. "New job."

Rinna flounced back into the room. "What's this fuss, boys?" She was strapping on her leathers.

Taliesin flapped the paper at her by way of explanation.

I unhitched myself from the wall. "What's the scoop?"

"Good old B-'n-E. Noble uptown by Main. Target is the chest in the master bedroom," the assassin answered, scanning the page. "'Kill guards if necessary.' Sounds like fun."

"What's the name?" Rinna leaned over Taliesin's shoulder, trying to read the note.

He stepped away from her folding the page. His eyes met mine. _We need to talk_, they said. "Marcello. Suit it up, Zev."

Z

I padded silently to my room. I dressed quickly, strapping into my comfortable leathers. I grabbed my daggers and slid them familiarly into the sheaths belted onto my shoulder blades.

I started back to the entrance to meet the others.

"Zev, over here." Rinna's voice was just behind me.

I spun and found myself nose to nose with her. She smelled faintly of lilies. She leaned forward and kissed me gently. Rinna slipped her arm through mine.

"Come on then, Tal is probably waiting so very patiently," she laughed lightly.

Z

I yanked my daggers form the guard.

"Last one," Taliesin called, straightening.

I joined him and Rinna; she still held her bow. We were standing in the middle of the room. "Find anything?" I queried.

She smiled. "There." Rin was pointing to a chest behind a heavy and very unfashionable paisley curtain.

I joined him and Rinna; she still held her bow. We were standing in the middle of the room. "Find anything?" I queried.

She smiled. "There." Rin was pointing to a chest behind a heavy and very unfashionable paisley curtain.

I knelt at the chest and pulled my lock pick from my belt. Expertly twisting, I felt the lock click open. Inside I found only papers.

"What is this?" Rinna sounded disappointed.

"What we came for," answered Tal.

I picked up the top one and began to read.

_The girl told me everything. She has loose lips for a Crow. She told me they would come for them soon. I'll hide the papers safely. The Crows won't even know. She said her cell would be the ones. That the Masters would know _–

My mind jumped back to Rinna leading us straight here. Her hanging back while we broke in. Her knowing where this chest was.

No.

Taliesin stood behind me, he had read what I had. He knew.

Rinna sold us out. Why?

"What did you do?" Tal demanded, rounding on her.

"What are you talking about?" she flashed back.

My hands felt cold. I slowly stood.

"What did you tell him?" Taliesin pushed Rinna down savagely. "Tell me," he hissed into her ear.

"I don't know what you think I did," she cried as her face folded in pain and confusion.

"Rin, we know this isn't the first time you've been here," I said quietly.

Her grey eyes filled with tears. "Zev, I- I don't know what you think I did. You trust me, right?"

"Tell me!" roared Tal. He suddenly had a dagger in his hand. He sliced into Rinna's palm.

She cried out in pain and tried to wiggled out from under him. "I didn't tell him anything!"

"You're lying."

I thought back. A few days ago Rin had gone to the market. It had taken her a very long time. When she came back, she went straight to her room and stayed there until supper.

"You betrayed us. You're giving nobles inside information or-or something!" Tal stammered.

"No, I-" Rinna broke off. Taliesin was kneeling on top of her. He punched her solidly in the face.

"Stop. Lying. To. Me!" He punctuated each word with a sucker punch across her face or chest.

I opened my mouth without memory of deciding to. "She won't say anything." I sounded very far away.

My cellmates looked at me; Tal's eyes hard, resolved and Rinna's wet and pleading. I felt as though I had iced to the ground.

"Please, Zev. Help me," she begged.

"You know the penalty for treason against the Crows," Tal spat in her face savagely.

"No! I didn't do it. Please stop," Rin screamed.

I drew a dagger. I thought about her kissing me at the safe house hours ago. How much of that was real? I shook my head.

Taliesin stood, Rinna remained in place from the shock. "Do it Zevran," he said softly.

"Zev, stop! Please, I didn't do anything!"

I threw my dagger. It _thunked _into the floor two inches from her face. Rin's eyes screwed up tightly.

"Do it Zevran!" Tal shouted.

I fell to my knees and crawled to them. I took Rinna's head in my hands. "Why?"

"I didn't do it Zev," she sobbed, tears running into her shirtfront. "Why won't you listen to me?"

"I – I don't believe you. I can't," I whispered.

"She could've told Marcello about us, Zev," Tal breathed into my ear, startling me a little. "She's a lying bitch."

My other dagger appeared in my hand.

"Zevran, please no!" screamed Rinna.

"Do it Zevran, end her," goaded Taliesin.

"Zevran, I would never betray you. Don't you know that?" Rinna locked my eyes on hers.

"No. No Rinna I Maker damned don't. Why can't I?"

"I have no idea, please don't do this!"

Tal was continuing to chant at me to slice down a little with my dagger.

I plunged my dagger into Rin's chest. Her eyes widened and mouth opened in shock. Then her entire face slumped. The hand locked around Tal's slid to the floor.

Tal jumped up. "By the way, Zev, you should learn to read a bit closer next time. Marcello was being informed by that rat of Ignacio's. Rin was innocent. Well, -ish," he sang gleefully.

I felt sick. "Rin?" I shook her. "Wake up Rinna, it was a mistake. You don't have to be dead!"

Rinna's body flopped limply. "Rin!"

Tal laughed. "She got what she deserved. She tried to make my life miserable. Bitch." The Crow spat at her.

"This is your fault!" I pulled my daggers out of Rin and the floor with some difficulty. I leaped to my feet. I stalked over to Taliesin and stood eye to eye with him.

"What are you going to do now Zevran? Kill me too? That'll be the end of our cell. Where'll you go? Will you do yourself in after Zev?" he mocked. "Do it. You know over a dozen ways to. Do it Zev."

"Don't call me that. You aren't my friend Tal. He's dead already. I don't know who you are," I hissed through clenched teeth. "No, I won't kill you. Rinna wouldn't want me to."

I turned and walked stiffly out of the townhouse. Away from the girl I had loved and my best friend.

Z

"Zev?" I was jolted back to the present. Standing before me was the Warden sex goddess. "Have you heard anything I've said in the last ten minutes?"

I blinked. And again.

"Ferelden to Zevran? There you go, ignoring me again!"

"There's something I should tell you about how I came to Ferelden," I said quietly and in full seriousness. "Just don't run zigzags around me, okay?"

"Circles."

I frowned. "What?"

"Circles. Don't run circles around me," she corrected, curling a stray lock of red hair around her ear.

I smiled. "Whatever."

~Zevran


End file.
